#rip wheeler x you

[topguncortez]

The Beauty fell for The Beast || Whumptober Day 20 - R. Wheeler

whumptober masterlist

synopsis: Rip has no idea what John saw in you to keep you at the ranch, but he quickly finds out that it's got nothing to do with how you cowboy

word count: 2.2k

@ailesswhumptober prompt: mutilation

warnings: domestic violence, mentions of scars and injuries, cursing, slight sexism

Rip wasn’t sure what John saw in you. Apparently, you had been picked up on the side of the road by Beth, literally shaking in your boots out in the rain. Somehow she worked her magic on John and agreed to let you earn your keep to stay on the ranch. You were weak, you were quiet, you were. .  . well, you were just you. You stuck out on the ranch like a sore thumb amongst the foul-mouthed, loud, adrenaline-fueled cowboys who walked around with their heads held high. You looked like a dog that had been kicked one too many times. 

“She’s weak, she’s slower than the rest,” John had barely been at the bunkhouse for an hour before Rip started in on his spiel on why you should get fired, “I have to tackle half her workload plus mine-” 

“Looks like you need to teach her,” John said, sipping his coffee casually. John had a soft spot for strays, it was clear by the misfits that he had on his ranch. He knew good and well that you were the weaker link, having watched you struggle to keep up with the rest of the cowboys. But it wasn’t very often that his daughter begged him for a chance. Begged him to give you a chance. You didn’t have to say the reason why you were standing on the side of the highway in the rain, John could tell by one look at you. 

“But sir-” Rip argued. 

John looked over his shoulder at him, “Make her take the lead with pushing the cattle to the north pasture.” Rip’s jaw dropped as John clapped him on the shoulder before sauntering off towards his truck. 

You hadn’t expected anyone to stop that night. All you wanted to do was get as far away from that house, from him, as you possibly could. You didn’t get very far in your car, breaking down only a mile outside of town. You knew that you couldn’t just sit there, he’d certainly find you. So, you ditched the car, leaving your phone in it, and took off walking. It was raining so hard that night, you could hardly see ten feet in front of you. Every passing semi and truck on the road made you jump, praying that you wouldn’t become roadkill. You just wanted to get away. Wanted to be somewhere safe and warm. That’s when a blacked-out SUV slowed to a stop beside you and a woman with a scar on her face rolled down the window. 

“Are you fucking insane?!” She yelled. The moment you turned to look at her, her hard facial features softened. She clenched her jaw and looked towards her driver, before reaching over and opening the car door, “Get in. And if you think about killing me, I’ll haunt your fucking ass until you die.” 

Beth had been the literal angel sent straight from hell. She had given you a place to stay, taking you to the bunkhouse and making all the men in there shake in their boots. She had given you fresh clothes and some toiletries, giving you a bunk with another female, Teeter, who reminded you a lot of your mother. 

“You’ll stay here, got it?” Beth said, and you knew better than to argue with her, “Run out on me and I’ll kill you,” You nodded your head. She then looked at Teeter, “Rip doesn’t find out about this until after I talk to my dad.” 

“I’ll hide ‘er,” Teeter nodded. 

Beth nodded and looked back at you, her heart cracking in her chest a bit, “Get some sleep kid.” 

Teeter had tried her best to ward Rip off, keeping him away from the bunkhouse that first morning, but there was no hiding the loud screams of terror that came from inside. Rip pushed away from Teeter, storming into the bunkhouse to find you, a small frail thing shaking and crying while Kolby and Ryan stood utterly confused. 

“What the fuck is that?” Rip seethed as he pointed at you. 

“Fresh blood!” Ryan smiled, while you were holding your knees to your chest and sobbing. You raised your head gently and looked into the warmest brown eyes you’ve ever seen. He clenched his jaw tightly, looking away from you, “Get her fed and saddled up. We got work to do,” Rip paused and turned back towards you, “And do something about the screaming shit. Gonna scare the fucking horses.” 

You got to work quickly, not knowing a single thing about being a cowboy. Hell, you couldn’t even remember the last time you rode a horse. But thankfully, Teeter and Kolby took you under their wings, almost as if they were your proxy parents. Ryan fell into the spot of being the older, annoying brother that you wished you had. The three of them looked after you and made sure that you were doing alright, eating well, and getting your workload done. The only thing the three of them could not stop was the nightmares. 

It was like clockwork, every single night. The same dream would plague you, the feel of his rough hands on your body, slamming your head against the wall, threatening to kill you, holding his hands tightly on your throat while black spots filled your vision.  You would wake up in the middle of the night screaming, sending the whole bunkhouse into a frenzy. Teeter would quickly jump down from her bunk, crawling into yours and holding you tightly, while Kolby made his way over. He’d always make sure that you were okay when there really wasn’t anything physical happening. Teeter would lay in your bed until you were asleep and then would crawl back into hers for the last few hours of shut eye. 

It wasn’t until about two weeks into your working on the ranch that you had another run-in with Rip. 

“You’re waking the bunkhouse,” He said gruffly. You looked down at your boots, trying to bite back the tears in your eyes, “My cowboys look like they haven’t had a solid night’s rest in weeks. I would fucking fire you if I could but. . .” You looked up at him, heart in your ears. You couldn’t get fired. You had nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. Rip pinched his nose and sighed, “I can’t cause for some reason, John thinks your worth a shit.” 

“But you don’t?” You said softly. Rip had to hide his stunned expression cause he was starting to think you don’t actually talk. 

“No, I don’t,” Rip nodded, “So pack your shit and follow me.” 

“I-I. . . I have nowhere to go,” You weren’t sure why you had to say that, but it felt like if Rip was going to tell you to disappear, you might as well try to plead your case. 

Rip sighed, “Pack you shit. . . You’re coming to stay with me.” 

You had been staying in Rip’s house for the past two weeks, and you hadn’t woken up screaming at all. Yes, you still had the same recurring nightmare, but it wasn’t so terrifying that it had you screaming in the dark. You weren’t sure what the cause of it was, but there was something about knowing that Rip was under the same roof that helped you sleep easily. You had seen the way that Rip jumped to stop a fight between Kolby and some rowdy ranch hand at the bar. 

Rip had a soft spot for you, whether he liked to admit it or not. It made his chest hurt when he heard you whimpering and crying in your sleep from down the hall. He tried his best to ignore it the first night, but it got to the point that he couldn’t just lay in his comfortable bed, while you were fighting with something in your sleep on the couch. So, Rip found his way to the living room, gingerly lifting your head and laying it on his thigh. He would stroke your hair until you were back into a deep sleep. And then, he’d turn around and leave before your alarm sounded, going to the bunkhouse and telling John that he should fire you. 

— — —

There was one thing that you loved about being away from the city, and that was the calm serene mornings. Watching the sun poke its light rays through the dark night. Seeing the purples and reds fade into bright blue skies. You hadn’t been on the Yellowstone ranch long, but you already fell in love with the sunrises. It was getting a bit colder out, as the sweltering summer was fading into the brisk fall. The leaves turn from green to vibrant reds and yellows. You felt calm out here. You felt in control. You knew you were needed down at the bunkhouse, but you didn’t care at this moment. Not after what you faced last night. 

Rip was grumbling as he walked towards the stables, taking note of all the ranch hands walking around, seeing that you were nowhere to be found. You hadn’t come home last night after saying you were going into town with Ryan, Teeter, and Kolby. Rip hadn’t bothered to get your number, which he was starting to regret. He cursed himself for being worried about you, knowing you were a full-grown woman. But you were also a woman who looked to be scared of their own shadow. 

“Carter!” Rip yelled as the young boy was walking out of the stables, “Why aren’t you saddled up?” 

Carter paused for a moment, huffing up the heavy saddle in his arms, “I got a late start. I’m sorry Rip.” 

Rip cursed under his breath as he watched Carter continue to struggle with his saddle, “God didn’t add extra daylight to Tuesday, Carter,” Rip rolled his eyes at the boy, who started to break into a jog, “Where’s the other Kid?” 

“Still in the barn,” Carter nodded his head towards the white building, “She just got there.” 

When he spotted you, resting your head against your house, Rip’s blood was boiling, “Do we just show up whenever the fuck we want to now? Where the hell have you-” You slowly lifted your head and turned to face Rip. 

His jaw clenched shut tightly. His anger was now directed off of you and towards whoever the fuck bashed your face in. Your right eye was swollen shut, an ugly cut above your eyebrow. You had what looked like handmarks around your neck, and your nose was clearly broken. 

“Who did this?” Rip seethed. 

You shrugged, “It doesn't matter.” You grabbed your horse’s reins, going to walk out to the ring, but Rip grabbed your arm. 

“That wasn’t up for an argument,” He spoke lowly, “Who did that to your face?” 

You gulped and looked up at Rip, “My husband.” 

It took all the willpower in Rip’s body to hold back the shocked expression. Why hadn’t you said you were married? Is that why you ran away? Well, clearly it was why you ran away, but how long had this been going on? Did he not know where you went? Was he looking for you?

But none of that mattered to Rip. All Rip wanted to know was, “Where is he?” 

“I. . .” You closed your eyes and shook your head, “Dead.” 

Rip didn’t ask any more questions, releasing your arm and running a hand down his bearded face. He looked over his shoulder, taking in a quick glance of his surroundings, before grabbing your arm and pulling you into the stall. 

“Listen,” Rip whispered, “You’re gonna tell me where you left him and then you’re gonna go back to the house and stay there. I’ll handle this.” 

“But-” 

“Go put some ice on your face,” Rip didn’t leave any room for argument as he walked out of the stable, leaving you there alone. 

— — 

You did what Rip told you, leaving the stable and heading back to the house. You weren’t surprised that he didn’t have any ice packs in his freezer, so you were stuck with putting a frozen steak on your eye. The house was eerily quiet as you sat on the couch, frozen meat to your face as you waited for Rip to come back. You wondered what he thought about the house. You wondered what he was going to do to your husband’s body. You wondered if he was wishing that he had never agreed to help you. Maybe he was going to turn you in to the police as you sit. 

But all those worries melted away as the front door opened, and Rip walked in. You stood up quickly as he stood in front of you. 

“I-” 

“How long?” Rip asked. You bit your lip, “How long has he been fucking using you like a punching bag?” Tears filled your eyes as you looked down at the ground, “Jesus Christ.” Rip huffed and took a step closer to you. He gently grabbed your chin in his hand, “Look at me,” You looked into his brown eyes, “You should’ve said something. You should’ve not gone to the house by yourself.” 

“He was going to file a missing persons report,” You sniffled, “I thought that I should just go, get the rest of my things, and tell him that I’m leaving. But he got so mad and. . .” Cries fell from your lips and Rip pulled you into his chest. 

You felt secure in his arms, his chest strong and comforting at the same time. You melted into his touch as he held you. 

“You’ll never have to worry about him or anyone else again,” Rip spoke, making his chest rumble with the dip timbre of his voice, “You’re a part of the Yellowstone now.”

taglist: @els-marvelvsp @sarahsmi13s @topgun-imagines @cassiemitchell @xoxabs88xox @seitmai @a-reader-and-a-writer @bradleybeachbabe @kmc1989 @senawashere @beautifulandvoid @ohtobeleah @rogersbarnesxx @oatmealisweird @dempy @devil-angel-winchester @gillybear17

[basiccortez]

My Forever - R. Wheeler 

Pairing: Rip Wheeler x female!Dutton warnings: pregnancy, horseback riding while pregnant, protective papa Rip word count: 1.3k Note: my Yellowstone and Outer Range requests are open. If you saw me post this yesterday. . . ya didn't.

It has always been a dream of yours to become a mother. From the time you were a little girl, running around with Kayce and Lee on the ranch, you had always played “family”, your old brothers playing along with you. Every doll and teddy bear that you had gotten became your baby and you treated them as such. Your mother wanted more for you than to become some rancher’s wife and raise the next generation of Duttons, but it was what you wanted. 

Rip knew that that was your dream, and he was more than willing to help you achieve it. First thing though, was marrying you. John put the fear of god in him on what would happen if he knocked up his little girl before marrying her. So Rip did right by him, and married you in a small ceremony on John’s front lawn. You wore a simple white sundress and your boots. Kayce stood by your side as you exchanged vows with the love of your life. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time until you were sharing the news that you were pregnant. 

You were currently six months along and were bursting at the seams with excitement about the little girl you were carrying. Rip was terrified when you told him the baby was a girl. He didn’t know the first thing about raising little girls, and prayed that if she turned out anything like you or her aunt. . . God save the man who pisses her off. But there was one thing that you missed the most since becoming pregnant, was being able to ride your horse. 

It wasn’t that you couldn’t go ride, it was just strongly recommended that you don’t. You had asked at your first OB appointment if you could, and your midwife advised against it. And Rip took that like it was the word of God. Anytime he saw you getting anywhere close to the bunkhouse or the stables, he was directing you away. He was already protective of you, and now that you were carrying his little girl, it was amplified by a thousand. 

But somehow, you had managed to get around his ruling, and found yourself in the stables before anyone else, well besides Jimmy, who was cleaning the stalls. Your boots clicked on the cement as you walked by the horses, getting to the stall where your first baby was. The brown and white Appaloosa that had been gifted to you for your 18th birthday, stood up from his lying position and made his way over to you. 

“Missed me, huh,” You smiled and pet his nose, “I missed you too.” 

“Uh, are you supposed to be-” 

“Jimmy, shut up,” You said, “Saddle up ol’ Jesse here.” 

“Rip told us not to-” 

“Does it look like Rip is fucking here,” You turned and put your hands on your hips, “Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to piss off a pregnant woman? A pregnant Dutton woman, at that?” 

“N-no, ma’am.” 

“So stop fucking stuttering and saddle up my horse, Jimmy!” 

Jimmy nodded and moved quickly to get Jesse out of his stall. You sighed in content and fixed the hat on your head. You were at the point in your pregnancy where wearing Rip’s jackets fit better than your own. You knew that when he woke and looked for his classic black Yellowstone jacket, he'd start cursing up a storm but you couldn’t be bothered with it. 

“Horse is saddled ma’am, where should I put him?” Jimmy asked. 

“In the arena,” You said. Jimmy nodded and followed you out to the arena with Jesse on the reigns. The horse seemed excited as they neared the arena, knowing that he would be able to stretch his legs and get a good run in, “Alright,” You sighed, and took the reins from Jimmy, “Stay near.” 

“Why?” 

“In case I fall off this thing or Rip comes down,” You climbed up on the fence, giving yourself a little extra leverage to get up on Jesse’s saddle. You couldn’t swing up on him like you used to, not with a growing belly. Jesse let out soft huff as you mounted and adjusted yourself in the saddle, “Alright, easy now boy.” You kicked his belly softly, “Precious cargo on board.” 

As if Jesse could understand you, the horse started to gently trot around the arena. It wasn’t like you were used to, being able to take off with incredible speed and ride him up through the mountains and valleys of the ranch, but the soft, gentle trot was enough to bring a smile on your face. You let out a laugh as you felt your baby kick within you. You pulled on Jesse’s reins, stopping him. 

“Good boy,” You cooed and pet his mane, “Soon enough you’ll have another little handler who will be begging to take you for a spin. Come on,” You kicked his belly once again, getting the horse to start to trot. 

Jimmy watched you amazed, how easily you took all the turns and led Jesse around the ring. He didn’t notice that the rest of the bunkhouse had woken up, or that Rip was storming his way up to the arena, looking for both his jacket and his woman. 

“What the fuck is she doing?” Rip asked, seeing you in the arena, “Jimmy, what the fuck is she doing?” 

“Uh,” 

“Oh!” You stopped Jesse’s small run, “You’re awake.” 

“Yeah, I’m fucking awake,” Rip said, “What the hell are you doing on a goddamn horse?” 

“Well, what does it fucking look like?” You sassed back. 

“Ryan, get her the fuck off that damn horse,” Rip ordered. You rolled your eyes as you watched your husband walk away and back into the stables, but not before stopping and thumping Jimmy upside the head. Ryan gave you an apologetic look and grabbed Jesse’s reins, pulling you over to a ladder that Colby had brought out. 

“Sorry, miss,” Lloyd said, giving you his hand to help you off the horse, “You know how he is.” 

“A stubborn asshole,” You said, your feet hitting the steady ground, “If this kid pops out with his stubborn attitude. . . so help us all.” You squeezed Lloyd’s shoulders before walking into the stables to find your husband pacing the ground. You sighed and leaned up against the wall of an empty stall. 

“I told you to stay away from here. From the bunkhouse, from the stables and from the-” 

“I can not stay locked away in the foreman's house any longer, Rip!” You yelled, “I’m losing my fucking mind being in there all fucking day. Between you, and my dad and my brothers being so god damn over protective I am losing my fucking mind. I just wanted one second of freedom. Just one.” 

Rip felt a pang of guilt and took a step forward. Before he had met you, he never thought he could have anything good in his life. He had seen all sorts of evil, he had been a part of that evil. But you showed him that he could have something good in his life. You showed him what it felt and meant to love someone unconditionally. And Rip was going to fight for that until his dying breath. 

“I can’t lose you or her,” Rip said and gently placed his hands on your growing bump, “You two, are my forever. My everything. And everytime you leave my side, I think the worst. I almost lost you once,” The memory of the day the whole family got attacked plays in his mind every time you walk away from him. He spent hours trying to get ahold of you, wanting to know if you were dead or alive. Your dad was barely alive, your brother had been shot, your sister nearly blown up, and you had been run off the road by a semi. 

You grabbed Rip by the back of the neck and brought his lips down to you. You pulled back and Rip rested his forehead against yours, “You’re not losing us. We are right here, forever. You’re stuck with us now, baby.” 

“And there ain’t no better way I’d have it.” 

[bullet-prooflove]

Clover: Rip Wheeler x Reader

Tagging: @1-fuzzy-squirrels @nerdypinupcrystal @babygirl8900 @roxannz

When John Dutton’s entire herd dies in Pasture Nine it’s you that’s called out to deliver the medical assessment. He wants everything documented, the ‘I’s dotted and the ‘T’s crossed because when he tracks down the person who murdered his animals he’s going to do everything he can to fuck up their shit. Legally and otherwise.

“Bloat.” You tell them as you kneel over the calf that you delivered a couple of weeks ago, the one that Jimmy’s just finished hand rearing. “Probably from all the fucking clover some asshole tossed into the field.”

There’s an anger in your voice, a rage that simmers underneath the surface. Rip feels it too because he raised these animals, cared for them and finding three hundred and twenty six of them asphyxiated in a field is fucking harrowing.

You’re washing up in the sink of the barn when he catches up with you, scrubbing your hands in the scalding hot water with an old nail brush. They’re raw already, a vibrant shade of pink that contrasts against the hue of your skin.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself.” He murmurs as he leans over and turns off the water before picking up the hand towel and patting your hands dry.

He knows what you’re trying to do but washing away the death, the decay, it ain’t that simple. You’ve been closed off ever since you left the pasture, shuttered. You hadn’t said a word the entire ride back but the devastation, it rolls off you in waves.

He tosses the towel onto the workbench and you turn your head away because you don’t want him to see that weakness in you, that vulnerability.

“Hey now.” He whispers, clasping your chin and guiding your gaze back to his. “Don’t hide from me.”

You’re crying and that’s the thing that you don’t want him to see. His lips brush over your cheeks chasing away the tears as he wraps his arms around you and holds you close. He knows that you’re thinking about that calf, the one whose face you cradled between your hands after it was born. There had been such joy in you in that moment and Rip, he couldn’t help but smile.

His world had been a dark place before you came along. Harsh, cold, unrelenting, the same could be said about him. All of that has changed after you, the edges are softer, the colours brighter, there’s a lightness in his chest he hasn’t felt in years.

Seeing you like this, it feels like someone’s reached into his chest and torn his heart right out.

“We’ll get the people responsible.” He murmurs, his forehead coming to rest upon yours. “I promise you that.”

Love Rip? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[itsstrange]

The Promise

Relationship: Rip Wheeler x Reader

Fandom: Yellowstone

A/N: A small idea I had while daydreaming at work, hope y’all like it. 🥹

Summary: Saying Goodbye Is Always The Hardest. So Is Keeping A Promise.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: (No) Angst, Mention of Military, Farewells, A Little Sad Moment, Angry Rip, Sad Rip, Arguments, Small Confessions.

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ENJOY 🐎

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“So… you’re really goin’ back?”

You look up, meeting his eyes before averting them back down to your duffel bag where you toss the stack of clothes inside. The clothes that have been folded, locked away underneath the bed for the past five years. The clothes you swore you wouldn’t wear again, wouldn’t dare to see until you had kids in the future to explain to them why you had a pile of clothes and photos locked away in some old worn trunk that dusted away underneath your bed.

Unfortunately it didn’t last to reach that day because here you are, packing away the clothes into your tactical duffel bag that was also locked away.

“How long?”

You inhale deeply through your nose before slowly exhaling, still not meeting their gaze you continue packing away, placing the frame photo of you and the boys in the center before zipping the duffel shut.

“Not sure.. too early to say,” You answer as you move the bag to the foot of the bed before sitting down,

“When do you leave?”

You swallow, feeling the way your chest tightens at the thought, “Tomorrow, before sunrise,”

Thick silence hovers the room. Everyone thinking and feeling the same thoughts, emotions.

“And why are you going back again?”

“Will you morons knock it off with the questions,” Lloyd’s husky voice bouncing off the wooden walls brings a small smile and a chuckle from you,

“A buddy of mine needs help,” You still answer Jimmy’s question, which he doesn’t respond with another mostly because he can see the way Lloyd gives him the look,

No other questions were sent your way, neither of them wanting a look from Lloyd as well, nor did they want you to dwell on the heavy mood that hovered. So instead, Ryan and Colby were the first to bring up a farewell party, change of topic. You kindly decline their idea, but of course neither men listens to you.

As Ryan and Colby begin listing items on what to bring for the farewell bonfire, and yelling at one another on who gets to keep your bunk (because it’s the closest one to the bathroom) you couldn’t help the small chuckle that falls from your lips. You were really going to miss every single person in this room. Despite them making you lose a few strands of hair from their idiotic actions, and constant bar brawls, you were surely going to miss them.

They made every other day interesting, every night annoying and fun at the same time with their childlike games that they come up with that sometimes leaves them with bruises or a chipped tooth. Everyday, every night, they made it special and you were definitely gonna miss it.

“Hey I’m not leaving just yet, I still got the whole day and the night before y’all start fighting over my bunk,” You say as you stand from the bed, punching both men on their shoulders,

They both share a laugh with you as they continue listing whatever alcohol they should buy, asking if you preferred hotdogs or burgers as you all walked out the house.

Saying goodbye to them was hard, but not as hard as it’s gonna be when you say it to him. Now that.. that will definitely break your heart. The look in his eyes when you tell him, you can already picture them and from the way your chest tightens, you know it’ll be difficult.

*******

You were currently feeding the rest of the horses inside the stables. Marking down the ones who needed a wash and a trim, which stables needed cleaning. Same old routine before having to check up on the rest of the animals, considering your main job at the ranch was analyzing and tracking the animals health. You weren’t exactly a veterinarian, but you learned a few things throughout the years which John persuaded you to take up on his offer of being in charge of the animals when it came to their monthly health checkups. So of course you took classes to advance your knowledge, to help around the ranch, make it easier for the old timer.

Yes he did have actual trained, experienced, veterinarians working on his animals before, but knowing how you easily picked up the job, how much love and care you gave to the livestock, he knew it was a good investment on both parts. Besides, he trusted you dearly in that department.

Hours had flown by, nearing six o’clock in the afternoon as you were finishing up in the stables before heading out to help Lloyd and the boys to check out some of the cows that were further up in the land. As well as putting up a new fence since the one hanging on was already rusting away due to the weather these past few days, as well as some idiotic trespassers cutting through the fence simply to test the Dutton family.

Just as you throw some fresh hay into one of the stables and patted the horse in its neck as he eats his dinner, the sound of loud rough boots marching against the ground ring in your ears.

“Were you ever gonna tell me?” His loud, rough voice settles behind you, words firm as you dumped hay into the last stable,

You sigh, taking off your gloves and placing them in your back pocket before looking up at him. Eyes wide, angry, betrayal, and fear were written in them. Just like you pictured.

“Yes.. I was,”

“When? Tomorrow? When you leave apparently?” Betrayal can be heard in his voice, blue eyes confirming his tone,

“There hasn’t been a good time to let you know,” You tell him, voice calm, tired, heartbroken,

It wasn’t a lie. When he had gotten back from running an errand with Kayce you were determined to lay it on him, but things got hectic that you weren’t even able to spare him a word. It remained that way for the rest of the day, work after work, problem after problem, when lunch came around he wasn’t at the table eating his supper with everyone else, he was out with Dutton, doing the man a favor, so wanting to talk to him during lunch didn’t happen like you were hoping for.

You told yourself you’d let him know when he came back, but apparently he was out and about with Dutton for the rest of the day. So by the time he had came back was at this very moment, catching you feeding the horses inside the stables. Dutton must’ve told him at some point during their errand runs, who else could have? You weren’t annoyed it was your boss who gave him the news, but you were hoping it’d be you who told him because it came from you, no one else.

“Do you not remember what that place did to you?!” He harshly whispers, taking a step closer to you, “Cause I sure as hell can!”

You lower your gaze to the floor with a faint sigh at his words. Of course you remember. How can one forget something like that? The constant nightmares, the flashbacks, mood swings, not knowing what was real or not, the cold sweats, all of it you remember. The first few weeks of being home after being honorably discharged were rather difficult, your body knew it was home, safe, but your mind was still at war. Constant nightmares played in your in head, bullets flying everywhere, blood stains surrounding you, staining your hands and vest. Screams echoing in your mind on a daily from those who were gunned down, who were injured and were slowly bleeding out in your hands.

It was an everyday thing. The boys, Rip, would beg you to get help, to talk to someone, but you’d just shrug them off telling them you were fine, that it’ll pass.

But you were in fact not okay and the nightmares never ceased.

It was after one particular night that everything had changed. The one night that had you finally reaching out for help, the night that had you admitting that you were not okay.

You had been home for two weeks when it had happened. All it took was a hectic, drunken brawl to trigger the episode. One minute you’re enjoying your beer, slightly laughing at a joke that one of the boys shared, letting lose to ease the noise in your head, then the next you’re being pulled off a blonde head who’s face was nearly disfigured beneath you. Blood covering her once fresh face and clean hair, along with your hands that shook from adrenaline, anger, fear, shell shock.

Once Rip got word of what happened he stormed his way to the bunkhouse which is where he had found you staring at your own reflection in the bathroom. The way a cold and lost look was written in your eyes will forever be embedded in his mind. It wasn’t you who stood standing in front of the mirror with tensed shoulders, hair a mess from sweat and dried blood, the real you was trapped in your mind.

It nearly took all night to bring you back, but not once did he give up.

“Rip,” You softly call his name with an exhausted sigh as you close the door to the stable,

“No. You’re not going!” Blue eyes widening more with fear and rage,

“Yes I am,” You respond in a whisper, “They need me,”

“And we need you here!” I need you here.

It was what he should’ve said, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. Wasn’t exactly how he wanted to let you know the truth, wanted to do it the right way, a more intimate, genuine way. But now, he’s out of time. And most likely lost his chance.

He lost you.

“Rip-,” You begin to say but was interrupted by Kacey walking in the stables,

“We’re loaded to fix the fence,” You turn to him before giving him a small nod,

The youngest Dutton switches his gaze from you to the brute man staring intensely at you, knowing then he had walked into something and immediately sensing the tension surrounding the air. He’s felt this mood before, felt tension between you two every so often, but for some reason this time it was stronger, as if one wrong word said would ignite the awaiting flame. So without another word and only a simple nod, he turns to walk away, giving you two privacy. However, you didn’t stick around. Both to just get the day over with and also to postpone the argument.

If you even get a chance to talk about it with him again.

You hear Rip call out to you as you walk out the stables, halting your steps. You glance over your shoulder, meeting his eyes, but no words were said, so instead you let out a sad sigh through your nose as you continue walking out the building. Leaving the brute man alone in the stables with angered thoughts.

*****

Hours had flown by. After fixing the fence, which took nearly the whole day since it was worse than anyone thought, doing daily health checks on the animals, running a quick errand with Beth, everyone was finally able to wash up and spend the remaining hours with you. Everyone sat around the bonfire sharing stories about anything and everything, chatter, laughter and music can be heard in the darkened night.

Empty beer and whiskey bottles, sticks with dried marshmallows and chocolate littered the ground around everyone’s feet. It was a night you’d deeply remember, a night you’d miss, a night you wished would happen every Friday, but you knew it wouldn’t be possible. At least not with you. Not anymore. You tried keeping a strong face, positive thoughts, positive energy, for the sake of everyone around you. They all had high hopes of you coming back home, claiming you’d be home in less than two months because you were tough as a bull, but you knew the truth. The reality of it all.

Obviously you didn’t remind them of the truth, didn’t want to take away the little happiness they held onto for you, the strong faith they had. So all you did was smile at them, raise your glass and down the last bit of your drink. Every so often you’d get lost in your thoughts, thinking of the mission, the serious consequences, the challenges that will come with it, the horror you’ll soon face, but before you can trap yourself in such thoughts they were there to bring you back. Invite you to their conversations, their stories they were sharing, their jokes, which you were thankful for.

What you didn’t notice was the way a pair of blue eyes have been secretly staring at you from across the fire pit. A dark corner where the fire barely illuminated his features. Light or not he didn’t care if he was caught staring at you, everyone was able to read his opinion of the whole situation but no one dared to ask him about it. He was already a fumed bull waiting to be provoked.

There were times where you’d glance up and catch him staring, but not once did you confront him. Making a scene in front of everyone was the last thing you wanted, so you ignored him and his glaring daggers.

Although, at one point during the night, Colby was the one to mention they had ran out of marshmallows, which you volunteered to grab the extra pack from the bunk house. Slightly buzzed you make your way through the Dutton ranch with sluggish steps till you push open the door to the bunks. Walking to the kitchen you grab the new pack of marshmallows sitting on the counter along with another couple chocolate bars. Just as you turn to head back out, your steps come to a stop when you see Rip standing by the couch.

Face emotionless, but eyes dark, red. Was he crying?

“Havin’ fun?” Rip questions, tone cold and firm, yet his blue eyes have another written emotion in them,

You shrug a shoulder, “Tryin’,”

He scoffs, “Yeah I see that.. but it ain’t workin’,”

You knew exactly what he was referring to. The constant lost in thought when the conversation was directed somewhere else. What you didn’t know until now was those same eyes that have been staring at you from the dark were analyzing you throughout the entire night. Watching the way your smile quickly faded as you once again lost yourself in your thoughts, watching the way your fingers peeled off the label from your beer bottle, the way your leg bounced uncontrollably from nerves, fear, and anxiousness. He knew you were afraid, he read you perfectly, but he knew nothing he’d say would change your mind. Not now, not ever.

You were stubborn like a goddamn mule.

“Yeah well, it’s a little hard to have fun when I got two sets of eyes throwing daggers at me all night,” You say, matching his tone as you stare into his eyes,

Heavy tension once again surrounds you two, the muffled music coming from outside was the only thing that can be heard in the room. Neither of you said anything for a good minute or so, just staring at one another with pain written in both your eyes with tears threatening to build. This wasn’t how you wanted to give your farewells to him. Having an argument with him before you left was something you did not want, but yet here you are.

“Can we just..,” You pause, letting out an exhausted sigh before continuing, “Enjoy the rest of the night before I have to catch a flight in a few hours?”

Rip stares deep in your eyes. Hurt, sadness, anger, and fear were written in his blue ones, they were easy to read, especially when he stared at you the way he was staring. He didn’t bother to hide it, yet he didn’t express it to you verbally. Not like he had to or wanted to, it was obvious on how he felt of the whole situation.

“They’re out there celebrating your death..,” He says pointing a long finger at the door then continues with, “.. and I ain’t being apart of it,”

His voice slightly breaks with each word. His blue eyes standing out more when tears begin building, but not one dares to slide down his cheeks, at least not in front of you. Not saying another word, he turns around and heads out the door with a harsh shove that has it banging against the wall.

Whatever string was left holding your heart in place had finally snapped as you watched the door shut behind him. The last memory you’d have of him. This wasn’t how you wanted to leave things with him, he was the only one who could have helped you through it, fought through the dark times, the constant noises in your head. He was the only one who you stayed alive for while you were out in the field, but now that he’s walked away, not wanting any part of it, you didn’t know if it was even worth staying alive once you landed on base. He was your anchor to it all.

And now you’d be stranded in the dark, drowning with nothing to hold you upright. Keep you up float when you felt like sinking, when you felt like the water was too strong for your fighting body. The one person who could’ve saved you from it all was now walking away, leaving you alone.

‘Maybe it was for the best.’

You tell to yourself. You convince yourself. Maybe him not being apart of it, apart of your life would one day guide him to a better life with the love of his life, guide him to someone who can make him happier, stronger, happier.

It was for the best that he left.

*****

4:30 am

Throwing your duffle and backpack in the backseat you shut the door before facing the small crowd. You give everyone a big hug, including the man himself, John Dutton who hugged you for a good long minute before being slightly shoved by Beth who took you in a stronghold as she secretly let the tears fall down her cheeks. You don’t know how, but you kept your own tears from spilling down. Once departing from the woman you go ahead and start hugging the cowboys, sharing a few laughs with them as they joke with you one last time. Which you appreciated their effort in trying to lighten things up, but you knew they knew nothing they can say now will help. But still, you appreciate it.

“So.. who won?” You say when Ryan and Colby stand in front of you,

They both share a look, small smile forming on their lips, “Neither,” Colby says,

You give them a confused look, but Ryan continues with, “We decided to leave it ready for you when you come back,”

Come back. Something you knew was a big word at the moment.

“Can’t have it ready forever,” You say with a sad chuckle,

“We can and we will,” Ryan firmly states, letting you know no one will come near the empty bed unless it’s you,

It was a faint demand from them. They wanted you to come back, no matter how hard it will be, they demanded that you come back to reclaim your bed at the bunkhouse, and that alone brought the ball back in your throat.

“Gonna miss you dorks,” You manage to say before quickly bringing them both for a group hug,

Both men wrap their arms around you, burying their faces in your hair as they cherish the moment. As you go to pull away both their hands on either side of your hip tighten, not wanting the hug to end, but eventually step away from you.

You give them a small smile and then a small wave to everyone huddle in front of you before turning around to climb into the truck where Roscoe patiently waited for you.

“Ready?” The soldier asks as you take one last glance out the window, watching everyone wave at you with saddened smiles, the ranch standing tall and beautifully behind them.

Letting out a small sigh you give him a nod.

In a matter of seconds the truck roars to life before beginning to move down the driveway and out of the Duttons ranch. Silence engulfs the car, only the sound of the radio softly playing in the speakers is heard. Leaning your head against the headrest behind you, you let your mind drift away, thinking about everyone at the ranch, playing their faces in your mind to not forget them, your fingers softly playing with a small deer origami that Tate had made for you last night for good luck. Then thinking about him once again.

Remembering how things were left between you two. Wishing you could’ve fixed things before you left, wished you could’ve said the truth, wished he could’ve have given you the chance to let you show him just how much he meant to you. But he didn’t. None of it happened.

So now, all you’ll think about is What If.

While driving halfway out the ranch and you still being lost in thought, you didn’t capture the moment a large black figure blending in the dark speeding in your direction until the truck comes to an abrupt stop. Causing your seatbelt to lock just in time to catch your body from going forward.

“The fuck?” Roscoe reacts, putting the gear in park as he eyes the figure that is currently blocking his way,

You clench your jaw as you make eye contact with him, even in the dark and with the only source of light from the headlights you both immediately lock eyes.

Of course it’s Rip on top of his horse. Black hat on his head with his black jacket wrapped on his frame.

“I’ll take care of this,” You say, never breaking eye contact with him as you unbuckle yourself and open the door,

“(Y/n) we don’t have time for this,” Roscoe tries arguing back, but you repeat yourself as you hop off the truck,

Shutting the door and standing by it you face him, where he still remained on top of his horse.

“Rip seriously what is your problem? I don’t have time to deal with you right now!” You yell as the brute man climbs off his horse,

A grim look was written on his face as he makes his way towards you. A look he only has when he’s angry about something, and right about now he’s angry at you, you knew that.

“I swear to god Rip if you don’t get out the way I’m gonna-,” Your words were cut off by a pair of rough lips latching onto yours,

Your eyes grow wide in anger, shock, and confusion. But once you feel the way his hand gently cups the side of your face you realize what exactly is happening and only react back. Your own hands finding their way to his face, fingers slowly tangling themselves in his soft, dark curly hair at the base of his neck. A deep, saddened relieved sigh escapes from you two as you both pour the hidden truth into the kiss. Deepening it and cherishing the moment at the same time, neither one wanting or planning to break it off, but you both knew it had to happen, you had to leave.

Which is why Rip got a little selfish for a second, he deepened the kiss, licking his way into your mouth as he held a tight grip on your hip to not let you out of his hold. Just a few more seconds of this, he had to. If this was the only time he would get this opportunity until you came back home, then he was sure as hell he would take every second that was available to have you in his arms, have your lips molding with his, have your fingers tugging on his hair, have your breath fanning his lips, have both your hot tears smear against his own cheeks. He was taking advantage of the moment because he knew it would be more than a month that he would be able to feel it again. Feel this moment again.

Eventually, you both do break the kiss, but not once did he let an inch form between you two. Leaning his forehead against yours, he lets you both catch a breather from the intense, beautiful moment.

“You come back to me you hear?” He whispers, beautiful blue eyes now searching for your own,

When he finally does find your (E/c) eyes that he has grown to love, he whispers once again, “You come home,”

New tears fall down your cheeks at his words, you knew you couldn’t make such a big promise, especially in your line of work. It was a rule, a rule everyone in the military who serves knew they should never make, because they knew reality was always behind that promise.

You stare into those blue eyes of his that have tears of their own, some finding their way down his rough skin, while the rest build at the brim of his eyes. You knew he knew you couldn’t make that promise, but he knew you’d fight for it no matter what, no matter how impossible it might seem, because he knew you always kept your promise. That’s who you were. Loyal, loving, protective, unafraid, and a true fighter.

You stare into his eyes a little longer, feeling the way another tear slides down your cheeks then feeling the rough pad of his thumb gently wiping it away. The words get caught in your throat, the words where you wanted to tell him to be realistic, to not make you promise anything because disappointment and pain is the only thing he’ll receive, but before you can even force them out you hear your name being called from inside the truck.

“We gotta go,” Roscoe softly says, hating to interrupt the moment, hating to part you from the man you clearly love,

You sniff, looking down at the ground then back up to Rip where he only gives you a small smile.

“C’mon,” Rip whispers as he leads you back into the truck,

Once sitting inside, shutting the door, Rip points at the man behind the wheel before saying, “You look after her you hear?”

Roscoe nods at him, “You’ve got my word man,”

Rip nods back before averting his eye to you. You sat there, tears still slowly sliding down your cheeks, you weren’t ready to say goodbye to him, not after you both finally confessed to each other. Which reminds you, you had to say it, in fear of not being able to ever again.

“Rip I-,” You try but he cuts you off with a shake of his head,

“No. Don’t say it. You say it when you come back,” He demands, small smile tugging on the corner of his lips, “Just know I do too,”

I do too.

You sniff once again, tears falling down as you glance behind him, seeing the ranch and the bunkhouse glow in the background. Memories flash in your mind. All those laughs, tears, injuries that you’ve accumulated over the years with everyone who lives and works at the ranch played in your head, reminding you that you had a family to come back to once again, you had friends who were also waiting for you to come back with open arms. You had a life to get back to.

Come back.

Averting your eyes back to his that had tears of their own falling down his cheeks, you stare at him as you remembered, you had him to come back to. He was your main reason to come back home, he was the reason why you weren’t going to die in the field, he was the reason why you weren’t going to give up when shot down, he was the reason why you weren’t going bleed out. He was your reason why you were coming home.

And if anyone tried stopping you from doing so, then it would be the last thing they ever did.

Because you are coming home.

Reaching a hand out the window, you let your small held cup his bearded cheek before letting your own thumb wipe away the tears that fall down. Looking into his eyes with a firm stare, a promise, you let him hear the words.

“I’m coming home,”

—————

-Ahhh It’s Finally Here!!! I’m Not Kidding I Have Been Going Back & Forth With This One. Mostly Because I Had Writers Block, But Also Because I Would Change A Lot Things & Finding New Ideas To Replace The Old Ones.

-But Again! Thank You To Those Who Have Been Patient & Have Been Waiting For This Wheeler Fic! More To Come!!

-Lastly, Make Sure To Turn On Post Notifications!! 🔔 🔔 For More Updates!

—————

Part 2 ?

[multi-fandom-imagine]

☀️ - A nice day outside || Rip Wheeler ||

It was a perfect day at the ranch and Rip wanted nothing more than to spend it with you, now all he had to do was to find you?

Slipping out of his truck then stepping into the small clinic you worked in, a bright grin bloomed on the man’s face as he tugged you into his embrace as a squeal escaped your lips.

“Rip!”

“I can not tell you how much I love hearing you scream my name.”

Scowling, you twisted your body giving his cheek a playful slap. “You’re such a pervert.”

Giving you a playful wink, Rip then tugged you towards the exit despite your protests. “I have to work!”

“Didn’t ya hear darlin, you got the day off.”

Slumping against his chest, you sighed waving goodbye to your coworkers following Rip out out to his truck. “You’re such an ass Rip, where are we going?”

Kissing your hand, he gave you another wink starting the car then driving off.

“It’s a surprise.”

•

“Rip.”

Your gaze softened seeing a blanket laid out on the field, you then glanced over at your lover as he gave you a sheepish smile rubbing the back of his neck.

“Awe don’t look at me like that darling…you deserve this and more.”

Shaking your head you grasped his hand tugging him towards the blanket. It took a small push for the man to stumbled back. Now laying on the blanket, Rip gave you a large grin. “Now what do you think you’re doing?”

Sitting yourself upon his lap, you let your fingers slip under his shirt as your lips grazed his cheek, his beard tickling your face. “How about we take advantage of this beautiful day.”

Grasping your ass, he gave it a squeeze as he pulled you in for a quick kiss. “I love the way you think.”

[hederasgarden]

Cowboy Trouble

Summary: When your boyfriend loses a game of poker, Rip Wheeler claims a night with you as the reward. 

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x F!Reader x Rip Wheeler

W/C: 3K

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. PIV sex, oral sex (m receiving), anal sex, threesome, slight spitting kink, soft dom vibes, fingering and dirty talk. This is pure filth. 

A/N: Thank you @writercole and @whatblogisthis216 for your help with this story and Cole again for the beautiful moodboard. Thanks to @imjess-themess for the idea of the poker game and @therebeccaw and @blue-aconite for beta'ing.

Masterlist ♡ Outer Range Masterlist

Rhett takes a seat in the corner of the hotel room, hat tipped back and a glass of whiskey in his hand. Your own mouth tingles from the two shots you took earlier in the lobby bar. The liquor helps to round the edges of your nerves. Tonight is a first for you and Rhett but something you’ve both wanted for a while. When your boyfriend caught Rip watching you on occasion it seemed like kismet. The Dutton’s ranch foreman was powerful and alluring but most importantly someone Rhett trusted. For all his violence, you knew Rip was a good man, kind but a little broken. Not unlike Rhett in that regard.

You sigh, relaxing into Rip’s hold as he runs his calloused hands over your smooth skin. When you look at Rhett his attention isn’t focused on you but rather Rip. He watches the way the older man slowly undresses you and mouths at the skin of your neck. You reach back and bury your hand in Rip’s thick hair, tugging light and pulling a groan from him. You feel hot and shaky, primed for his touch by the flash of jealousy in your boyfriend’s dark blue eyes. Rhett’s always been a little possessive and you’ve never loved that trait more than you do now. If looks could kill, Rip would be dead but the other man doesn’t seem to mind, his touch confident and sure. His hands feel like Rhett’s, roughened by their line of work, but they’re bigger than your boyfriend's. You shudder at the way one large hand spans over your delicate throat while the other cups your breasts.

"This just for me?" Rip asks, plucking at the flimsy strap of your lacy bra.

You smile at him over your shoulder, suddenly feeling a little shy. Rhett picked out the set yesterday, the color chosen specifically to compliment your skin tone. After you modeled it for him he’d taken you in the dressing room, bending you over the velvet bench and keeping you quiet with a hand over your mouth. He didn’t even bother to remove the lingerie, just pulled the underwear aside and sunk himself to the hilt, telling you to remember who you really belong to when you wore it later.

“For you and Rhett,” you tell Rip, glancing over at your boyfriend. Rhett takes a long sip of his drink, his pink lips shiny. The dark look in his eyes sends a bolt of desire through your body and you press yourself against Rip in response.

“Well, thank you, Darlin,” he murmurs, sliding his hand down your stomach until he reaches between your legs.

He rubs you over the thin layer of cloth until you're damp and squirming in his arms. Every time you make a little sound or beg him for more, Rhett shifts in his seat and rubs his palm over his thigh. You drop your head back to rest against Rip’s chest while he works you over with soft touches and whispered words meant for just the two of you. When you’re close to your peak he finally draws away and turns you to face him. He makes quick work of unhooking your bra and drawing down your underwear. The latter gets stuffed into his pocket and your mind buzzes at the thought of what he might do with it later.

Both men are still fully dressed while you’re completely naked. You feel vulnerable and powerless under their gaze, hyper-aware you’re at their mercy. That thought sends an unexpected wave of heat through your chest and you let Rip guide you to lay back on the bed. He arranges you so Rhett can see everything. Rip caresses your jaw with his big hand and tells you what a good girl you're being for him. You jump when he settles a hand on your knee, glazing back at Rhett.

“Easy now,” he whispers, speaking to you like a spooked horse and running his hands up and down your splayed thighs. “Look at me, sweetheart. Rhett’s not in control here,” he reminds you.

You shudder, eyes closing briefly as he works one thick finger inside and curls it upward. It feels good and isn’t long before a second and third join the first. You shift your hips down to drive his fingers deeper, grasping his forearm when he thumbs your clit. He works you into a desperate state, watching you with dark, wanting eyes. When he finally pulls his fingers out they glisten with your arousal. You watch, breathless when he moves away from you and approaches Rhett, dipping his fingers into your boyfriend’s whiskey and swirling them around. Rhett maintains eye contact with Rip as he downs the drink in one swig.

Rip smirks and returns to you, shedding his shirt and unbuckling his belt. You relax on the bed, dropping your hand between your thighs to rub your clit while he undresses. Once Rip is naked, he climbs onto the bed, his impressive cock bobbing between his thick thighs. You know it's going to be a tight fit and your cunt throbs in anticipation.

“Do I need a condom?” He asks you.

You glance at Rhett and he nods. Your boyfriend’s the only man you ever let come inside you and knowing he wants Rip to have you that way almost makes you dizzy.

“No,” you promise, reaching up to touch Rip’s beard. It’s softer than you expect and he smiles in return, nudging your thighs farther apart to accommodate his bulk. He pushes inside slowly, a hand on your jaw keeping you focused on him and him alone. “Don’t want to miss a minute of this,” he tells you, staring down at you without blinking until his hips are flush with yours.

You feel incredibly full and you roll your hips in response, needing something. Rip chuckles and pulls back only to move forward in one smooth but harsh stroke. You moan and beg him to do it again. He obliges until you’re almost crying around him because it feels so good. The drag of his cock inside you, the scrape of his beard over your nipples and the bruising grip on your hip all work together to have you coming around his cock in no time. The hand that cups your cheek blocks out any view of Rhett and he keeps you focused on him while he fucks you through it, prolonging the pleasure you feel.

When you’re finally coming down, his hand drops to the back of your neck while the hand on your hip tightens. The world spins and Rip rolls the two of you. Suddenly you’re on top of him, his hard cock sliding even deeper inside. Both of you groan when you flutter around him.

“Take a second to find your breath,” he urges, rubbing your waist.

You glance over at Rhett and meet his stormy blue eyes. He’s leaning forward in the chair, another full glass of whiskey dangling from his fingers. You notice the bulge in his jeans and the white knuckle grip he has on his thigh. When your brows draw together in concern he shoots you a wink and leans back, rubbing his palm over his bulge.

“Focus on Rip,” he directs.

You turn your attention back to the other man and watch him reach for the cowboy that he abandoned earlier in the evening on the bedside table. He sets it on your head with a smirk, tugging it down at the same time he rolls his hips. You gasp and pitch forward, settling your hands on his broad chest.

“Ride me, darlin’. I know Rhett’s taught you that much.”

You don’t dare look at your boyfriend when you rise up on your knees and drop back down on Rip’s thick cock. Your thighs tremble, your body still weak from your earlier orgasm. Rip helps you with a steady grip on your waist. You settle into a rhythm, circling your hips and rising up high enough to almost let his cock slip out before falling back down. Rip’s eyes close, his curly hair wild around his flushed face. You feel powerful riding him like this, working you both into a desperate, wanton state. Your own plesure builds at the base of your spine, another orgasm buzzing into existence the longer you fuck yourself on him. Rip seems to feel it too, pressing his roughened thumb into your clit and circling it over that sensitive bundle of flesh until you’re mewling for him.

“Oh,” you moan, eyes fluttering.

“Look at your boyfriend while you come apart on my cock,” Rip demands, fucking up into you with hard, unrelenting strokes as his fingers brings you closer and closer to the edge. “Tell him how good it feels to have me come inside you.”

“Rip, please,” you beg.

“Tell him,” the other man demands, ceasing his movement. You whine in frustration and try to ride him yourself but a bruising grip on your hips halts any movement. In desperation, you look back at Rhett.

“Feels good,” you moan, rewarded for your statement when Rip returns to fucking you. “He’s gonna come inside me, I want him to,” you pant, the last word turning into a wail as you come apart and your vision goes fuzzy.

Rhett curses and Rip groans deeply, stilling and flooding you with his warmth. Your heart beats wildly in your chest and you struggle to pull air into your lungs. Every part of you feels weak and loose. Strong, warm hands settle on your shoulders, and the hat on your head is plucked off. You look up at Rhett, leaning into him as he strokes your sweaty back. He tilts your chin up so he can kiss you roughly.

“Think she might need some help dismounting,” Rip suggests, his voice grizzled.

You wince as Rhett helps you off the other man’s cock and onto your feet, leaning heavily into his body. A trickle of cum leaks down your legs and you press them together, rubbing your face against Rhett’s chest. He cups the back of your head and you sigh, taking in his familiar scent. When Rhett reaches for your dress on the floor Rip clears his throat. You look over your shoulder to see him leaning casually against the headboard, an arm tucked behind his head.

“I was promised a full night,” he says, stroking his beard and staring at your body.

“Ready for another round already, old man?” Rhett questions, brow arched.

“In a few minutes. Thought maybe you’d like the chance to fuck your girl at least once tonight.”

“You want to watch me and her together?”

You can hear the surprise in Rhett’s voice and look back up at him. You know from the way his tongue runs over his lower lip slowly that he’s not entirely opposed to the idea, just taken aback. He looks down at you and you nod, letting him know you're game.

"You said it's my night with her and right now, that's what I want to see,” Rip says. “Put her on her stomach.”

Rhett helps you back on the bed before stepping back to undress. Rip pulls you to lay beside him, rolling on his side and smoothing a hand down your back and over the swell of your ass. You jolt forward when he curls two fingers inside you, gathering the mess the two of you made together. He drags his wet fingers up the back of your thighs and stops short of your ass.

“Can I touch you there?” He asks, nuzzling your face.

“Yes." Your breath catches when drags his fingers between your cheeks and finds your tight bud.

“Has Rhett fucked you here before?” He asks, using the wetness he gathered to tease your entrance.

You nod and drop your head to rest on the back of your hands, squirming as Rip teases the ring of your ass. It burns a little when he pushes inside but you want it, pressing back with a groan. Behind you the bed dips and another pair of hands settle on your body. Rhett places a chain of kisses between your shoulder blades and settles himself over the backs of your thighs. You close your eyes, letting Rip tease you.

“She’s gonna need lube,” Rip says, withdrawing his hand.

“No shit,” Rhett shoots back.

“Please,” you moan, arching back.

“Easy, we’re getting there,” Rhett promises you.

You glance over your shoulder in time to see Rhett take a bottle Rip hands him. Your boyfriend carefully works a finger inside you and you drop your head forward. He’s slow and methodical, letting you get used to the sensation before adding a second and scissoring you open. You roll your hips, your cunt feeling empty again each time Rhett fucks you.

​​"Hmm, gonna need a little more lube," Rhett hums, his fingers continuing to stretch your tight hole. You feel, rather than see, his warm saliva drip into your ass.

It’s filthy and you love it, moaning in response. You surrender to his quiet ministrations, rocking your hips back and forth as he continues to stretch you open. You’re not sure how long Rhett works you over, body feeling warm and relaxed but when he eventually pulls away your whine.

“Shh, we’re almost there,” he promises you, pushing your legs apart to kneel between them. “In the meantime, I think Rip needs a little attention.”

You lift your head just as Rip settles in front of you, his long legs resting on either side of your body. His cock is inches from your face and he’s already half hard again, stroking himself while he watches you. You rise up on your elbows and shift forward to take the tip between your lips, teasing his head with your tongue when you feel Rhett’s thick cock nudge your back entrance. When you open your mouth to welcome Rip’s cock inside, your boyfriend pushes the head of his cock past your tight ring.

The action jolts you forward and you swallow more of Rip then you intend, eyes watering with tears but you don’t pull back, moaning around his length while Rhett slowly feeds your ass more of his cock. Rip’s large hand settles on the back of your head, careful not to exert pressure. You hollow your cheeks and suck hard, tasting the tartness of your own arousal and the salty warmth of his.

Rhett pushes the last few inches inside while Rip gently presses on the back of your head until you’ve taken him down to the base. Your tongue darts out to taste his firm balls. You’re full in the best way and none of you move, savoring the feeling until your need for air has you drawing back. Rhett follows suit and you pull off Rip with a gasp, eyes closing when Rhett slides back inside and begins to slowly fill your ass again.

You nearly forget about Rip until he guides you back to his cock, letting you take over once your lips close over his head. You tease his slit with your tongue as Rhett picks up his pace. Your cunt flutters around nothing and that needy pressure builds in your lower stomach.

“Fuck,” Rhett gasps, curling his body over yours as pushes you harder and harder into the bed. His weight on you feels good and you grasp Rip’s cock and drag your lips down the underside, tracing the prominent vein you find there until you reach his balls. You suck on them gently, pumping his cock in time with your boyfriend's thrusts.

“Put your mouth back on him,” Rhett pants. “Take all of him down.”

Rhett’s commanding tone hastens your own desire and you do as he asked. Rip sighs and cups your face with both hands, thrusting shallowly into your mouth a few times. You relax your throat so you can take all he has to offer. He pumps into you once, twice and then floods you with his hot, salty cum. You gag but keep your face pressed to his stomach when Rhett grips your hips and pulls up so he can force a hand under you and strum your clit.

It’s hardly the kind of touch you normally need but they've both got your body so primed it sends you flying. You gurgle around Rip, his come dripping down your chin as you fall into unimaginable pleasure. Rhett fucks you harder and faster until finding his own release with a shout, his hot come filling your ass. You lift off Rip with a wet gasp, lungs burning. Every part of your body hums with pleasure and you shudder while Rhett continues to lazily thrust into you.

You feel like you might pass out, body overwrought, but Rip has more in store for you, nudging your mouth open again. He rests the tip between your lips and you close your mouth around him, sucking gently and drawing out more of his salty taste. He groans and pets the crown of your head.

“Good girl,” he praises, staring down at you, his cheeks flushed. “Keep sucking.”

“The best girl,” Rhett agrees, kissing the back of your neck.

You feel empty when he pulls out of you and groans at the loss of fullness. Rip pulls away a second later and they both turn you on your back. Someone drags a warm cloth between your legs to clean you up while another pair of hands wipe the tears and come from your face. You open your eyes and see Rhett hovering over you. He encourages you to drink some water and smiles down at you.

“Proud of my girl,” he whispers, kissing your forehead.

You sigh happily and lay back, letting Rip cover you with the thick comforter. He kisses your cheek and whispers his thanks.

“Anytime you wanna lose at poker again, you give me a call,” Rip says.

“Anytime you want to fuck my girl again, you can give us a call,” Rhett shoots back.

The stunned silence has you cracking open an eye to watch the two men face off. “Are you both going to let me sleep alone?” You ask. “I’m cold.”

Rhett smiles at you, reaching down to squeeze your ankle while Rip stares at you. “Well?” You question.

“You heard the lady,” Rhett says, stalking forward and slipping into bed beside you.

“Who am I to say no to such a request,” Rip replies, his plump lips drawing up under his beard.

♡

I no longer have a tag list, please follow @hg-library and turn on notifications.

[nevermoresvaledictorian]

I just want to thank every single fic writer that writes my favorite characters with x reader. You guys are doing the Lord's work.

[thebiggerbear]

Rip Wheeler Masterlist

(one shot and 2 prompt responses coming soon)

[mikeslawyer]

will always cold byers and mike always warm wheeler. and they're holding hands btw.

[c0wgurlz]

Trouble On My Left, Trouble On My Right

Chapter 2: Operation, Find Caroline a Cowboy

gif by @bodybebangin

Kayce Dutton x Reader/OC - Friends to Lovers

He doesn't even have to take half a step to catch back up with me. “Come on Caroline, you know I’m just teasing you.” He pats my back as a peace offering. “Although,” Okay, maybe not. “I have it on good authority that I can please the ladies, so save a horse and all that.” Winking flirtatiously, he belts out a laugh, finally removing his hand from my bare back. And what a blessing that is, because if he had kept touching me while talking about… that, I’d be liable to combust.

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Chapter 1

Sorry it took me so long to update! I'm a teacher and my free time is fairly limited. We're at a point in the school year now though that is much less stressful, so expect fairly regular updates, at least for the next few chapters.

Comments are so appreciated! I'd love to know what ya'll like and what ya'll think I could improve upon.

As always: I do not own Yellowstone (2018) or any of its characters. This work is not monetized.

THIS FIC IS CROSSPOSTED TO AO3. It is not posted to any other site. I am lookingcold on AO3 and that is all. I do not give permission for my work to be posted by others to any other platform.

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We don’t talk for the rest of the walk, but the silence is comfortable, like it always is between us. Kayce and I have never asked too much of each other, have always read each others’ moods as if they were our own, and that apparently hasn’t changed from the five years we’ve spent apart. It’s glaringly obvious to us both that neither is up for idle chit chat. 

And while I’m really not up for small talk, the silence does, unfortunately, give me entirely too much time to overthink. What felt like such a natural decision, what felt like fulfilling my duty this morning, now feels foolhardy, and quite possibly too risky. Now this isn’t to say that I’m doubting my choice. Helping Mr. John, helping Kayce, helping the family and ranch that raised me, that picked up my pieces and glued me back together over and over, is a no brainer. Helping the people and the place I love most in the world feels as natural as breathing. But smoothing over a murder? That’s- No, I’m not doubting my choice, but I’m sure as hell doubting my sanity. When I said the Duttons needed a criminal defense lawyer, not a PR specialist, I wasn’t exaggerating. And if I’m being honest, this job feels more like that of an accessory than a public relations consult.

The front porch of the big house comes into view well before I’m ready. This dinner may be a reunion of sorts, but it’ll undoubtedly be a business meeting as well. Steeling my nerves for such talks doesn’t come quite as naturally to me as it once did. I feel like a knight with rusty armor. Weak at critical points, weak where it matters. More aptly, I feel like a little girl again, staring into the headlights of a train with no way to move and no way to stop it. I’m no coward, please don’t think that of me, but you know that feeling of impending doom? The one that makes your spine tingle and your stomach drop to your knees? Dread is probably the best word. That’s all I can feel as I stand at the bottom step of the Dutton’s porch. 

I must hesitate for too long, or stare off into space, or look absolutely fucking terrified, because in a flash Kayce is back down the two steps he’d already taken and by my side. He doesn’t say anything, you’d think we’d taken a vow of silence, but just looks at me imploringly, resembling a curious puppy so much I almost crack a smile. And then Kacye, sweet Kayce, wraps his calloused hand around mine and tucks it against his chest, over his heart, before tipping his head, ushering me up the stairs. Once I’m half way up I get a fond, “Atta girl,” and what woman doesn’t love being praised like an obedient mare. I snort in response and kick out my foot to trip him, but only a little bit, on the last stair. Can’t have hime getting too full of himself.

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Dinner is nice, but rather awkward if I’m totally honest, mainly due to the fact that Beth and Jamie are in attendance. Let’s just say Gator clears the table well before dinner should truly be over. To my surprise, we don’t talk business, but rather I’m questioned, interrogated really, over what I’ve been up to the past five years and why haven’t I called and would it really kill me to send a text every few months. Beth is the one who leads this inquiry. Jamie and I were never particularly close, so he remains silent for the most part, and he leaves in a huff shortly after Beth throws a fork like it’s a trident directly at his forehead. Can’t say I blame him, even I can only handle so much of Beth when she’s at her worst.

My interrogation is blissfully, or so I thought, cut short by Mr. John when he asks, “So, ya’ll have any plans tonight?” He folds his napkin meticulously, trying to look nonchalant but missing the mark by a shameful amount. If I thought that feeling of dread had left me, I was wrong.

I narrow my eyes and prepare to defend myself against an interrogation of a different kind. Before I can grit out a suspicious, “No, why,” however, Beth pipes up. “Actually Daddy, since you asked,” at this she turns to me, “Caroline, how do you feel about heading into town and getting gloriously drunk and then gloriously fucked? You’ve been gone far too long, so you’ve got to be re-initiated, re-tainted if you will.” She looks me up and down, assessing. “You’re far too shiny, like a little cherub.”

Jesus Christ, I think she’s suggesting I fuck a townie. And Mary and Joseph I haven’t even so much as kissed someone since my divorce - ok, well maybe a peck or two here or there, but that’s besides the point. Here I was, so worried about talking business, about skirting around the subject of murder, only to be blindsided by an age old Dutton scheme. Operation: Find Caroline a Cowboy. Well if Beth thinks I’m about to get biblical with some rando she is absolutely, positively looney tunes. Now, how to communicate all of that in a tactful way? Taking a shallow breath, I part my lips and prepare to spout some placating, buzzword bullshit. Something along the lines of, “Well, as fun as that sounds, I’m actually really tired. Maybe later this weekend?” or “How about we just kick back in the bunkhouse tonight, save the salaciousess for this Saturday?” Before I can even utter a word though, Kayce butts in on my behalf.

“Do you maybe think you could save the corruption for later, Beth? I’ve already promised the boys that I’ll bring Caroline around for cards tonight.” While his voice is calm, casual even, Kayce gives himself away the moment he begins to bounce his leg, the tap tap tap of the heel of his boot loud in the otherwise quiet room. He’s uncomfortable, maybe even irritated, which aren’t we all at least a little bit when speaking to Beth, but there’s something else. A boyishness to his demeanor that I haven’t seen since high school. There’s also the fact that we had decidedly made zero plans to visit the bunkhouse tonight. So. Interesting.

I’m certainly not the only one to notice his odd shift in behavior, as Mr. John’s lips curl into a smirk and Beth’s face arranges inself into a pleased, self-satisfied expression. She frequently wears the look of someone who knows enough to destroy literally any given person’s life, but this look is more playful, one of a cat that’s pinned a mouse by its tail. Ignoring Kayce, she turns her attention back to me. “Caroline, sweetheart, don’t even think about screwing any of those cowboys. I know old habits die hard, but trust me when I say not a single one of them is worth a ride.” Now, to be clear, Beth knows, I know, Mr. John knows, and even Kayce knows that Beth has only ever screwed one of said cowboys out in that bunkhouse, still, her dig elicits the desired reaction from Kayce. And furthermore, she makes it clear that she’s not just trying to set me up with any old cowboy. I’m on to her. Operation: Find Caroline a Kayce.

With a cringe of disgust and a flushed face, he exclaims, “Fuck’s sake Beth, I’m not taking her out there to pimp her out.” He’s stopped smoothing the tablecloth, but now he’s exasperatedly running his hand through his still damp hair. Shit, Kayce. You think he’d have learned by now how to not play into Beth’s hand. Some people just have to learn the hard way I suppose. 

Beth’s eyebrows lift and the corner of her mouth quirks. “Well you’re not a very good bestfriend then, are you?”

“Fuck you.” Kayce mutters, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms petulantlly.

“Maybe you should be saying that to her.” Beth points at me with her napkin, dropping it onto her plate as she rises from the table. “This has been fun. Possibly the best family dinner we’ve had all year.” Planting a kiss on Mr. John’s cheek she says, “Love you Daddy, have a drink with me later, will you? I think we should talk.” Then, rounding the table to me, she strokes my hair, almost motherly, “Caroline, sweetheart, clear your schedule Saturday. Me and you are going to paint the town red.” Finally, reaching Kayce, she sighs, “Goodnight, dummy. Let me know if you’d like help finding your balls.” And just like a tornado, she’s there wreaking havoc one moment, and gone the next.

The dining room is uncomfortably silent for a beat after she exits, until Mr. John blessedly breaks the awkwardness yet again. “Beth’s antics aside, I don’t think ya’ll should be going out anywhere tonight. We’ve got several important meetings lined up tomorrow morning and I need both of you sharp. Especially you Kayce, tomorrow will require you to tell a very particular version of events and I can’t risk you fucking that up. Alright, Son?”

Looking slightly cowed, Kayce nods his head in agreement. “Alright.”

Having determined this hell of a dinner has gone on long enough, I begin to make moves to excuse Kayce and myself. “Dinner was delicious Mr. John, thank you for having me. And thank you for such fine company.” I may be lying out of my ass, but my momma didn’t raise me to be rude.

Mr. John exhales a dry laugh and rises from the table. It’s moments like this where his and Beth’s resemblance is striking. “No need to thank me, honey. You’re family, you’re welcome at my table anytime.” Pushing in his chair he surveys Kayce and I with calculating eyes. “Why don’t you two head on home, you both look like you’ve been put through the wringer.”

Gee Mr. John, I wonder the hell why?

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Our walk back isn’t nearly as silent as our walk to the house. To say Kayce is pissed would be putting it lightly. “What in the actual fuck was all that? I mean, Beth was no surprise, but what shit is Dad trying to pull?”

“Kayce, your daddy barely said a word.” I’m more focused on the words left unsaid.

“He didn’t have to say anything Carrie, he sat there like a smug bastard and let Beth say it all for him.” Kayce may as well be pitching a fit the way he kicks at the ground, arms hugged tight to his chest like a wronged toddler. Honestly, the image is kind of amusing, so much so that I have to stifle a laugh. I must not do a good enough job, because I can feel the glare that Kayce shoots through the side of my head. “What?”

Not wanting to add fuel to the fire, I’m quick to hide my growing grin. “Well first off, I’m gonna overlook the fact you pulled out my forbidden nickname. But second, do you remember that Christmas when we were thirteen? How Beth hung mistletoe from literally every single doorway, and how your daddy actually enforced the kissing rule?” I raise my eyebrows high, daring him to conveniently “forget” an awkward moment from our childhood as he often pretends to do.

The tips of his ears turn pink, but he sighs his agreement. “Yeah I remember, we must’ve kissed two dozen times. At the time I thought dying would’ve been a kinder fate.”

Asshole. I punch him in the arm, hard. “Wow. Thanks a lot. The sentiment is shared.” Rolling my eyes and checking for invisible dirt beneath my nails, I continue. “Anyways, what they’re doing now, Beth and your daddy, is just an enormous escalation of what they did then. I don’t think Mr. John will rest in his grave until I give him a grandbaby - with you.” I look at Kayce pointedly. It’s no secret that Mr. John, and Beth by extension, have been holding out hope that me and Kayce would fall madly in love and have lots of babies. When Kayce married Monica the teasing and hinting stopped, after all Mr. John would never disrespect their marriage in such a way, and when I married Judd it was almost like a fence went up between us, between myself and the Duttons that is, but now that both of our spouses are out of the picture? I’m certainly not surprised the trouble has started back up.

I expect Kayce to splutter and turn a darker shade of red. Despite his gruff exterior he’s always been reserved and easy to embarrass. He surprises me though when he mutters, “Maybe we should just give him what he wants then. Get him and Beth off our backs.”

I shock myself with the cackle that bursts its way out of my body. It bubbles out partly because of the utter glee I get from Kayce having a sense of humor for once and partly from the insanity of such a suggestion. “So you’re telling me, that your solution to getting your daddy and Beth to leave us alone, is to have a baby together? Yeah, because they definitely would have no interest in our love lives after a stunt like that.” I bump his hip with mine. “I can just hear Beth now, ‘I’m thinking a Fall wedding, you look horrible in bright colors and nobody wants to wear a suit in eighty-eight degree weather.’ We’d never hear the end of it.”

Kayce shrugs, shooting me a wry grin. “Hey, if we marry each other at least we’ll know what we’re getting into. No surprises.”

“Yeah, and no sex,” slips past my lips before I can swallow it down. What a stupid fucking thing to say. Good job Caroline, talk about fucking, or not fucking, your best friend some more why don’t you. Now I’m the one who’s blushing. Pink from the roots of my hair to my chest. And what a fatal mistake I’ve made by opening my fat mouth. My whole life I’ve had to be one step ahead of Kayce, embarrassing him before he can embarrass me worse, yet here I am giving him a golden opportunity.

His grin only widens. “I hate to break it to you Carrie, but to make a baby people have to have sex.” He slings an arm around my shoulders, adding insult to injury. “You know when a man loves a woman…”

I elbow him in the ribs before he can continue. He laughs at my embarrassment just as much as he groans from the pain. “Oh shut up.” Now I cross my arms, increasing my stride so that his arm falls from my shoulders.

He doesn’t even have to take half a step to catch back up with me. “Come on Caroline, you know I’m just teasing you.” He pats my back as a peace offering. “Although,” Okay, maybe not. “I have it on good authority that I can please the ladies, so save a horse and all that.” Winking flirtatiously, he belts out a laugh, finally removing his hand from my bare back. And what a blessing that is, because if he had kept touching me while talking about… that, I’d be liable to combust. If Kayce had always been shy and reserved in his day to day life, where I had been bright and obnoxious in mine, the topic of sex is where we switched places. I think calling myself a prude may be a tad harsh, but I certainly have never been one to broadcast my sexual business. Kayce on the other hand has never shied away from flirting, or kissing, or having sex in nearly every one of Mr. John’s pastures - you don’t get someone pregnant at nineteen by keeping it in your pants after all. 

Playing the game I had with Kayce in the bathroom earlier today had felt safe, probably because I was the one in control, but this battle of wills feels altogether different, like someone is poking at an insecurity, at a bruise I didn’t even know I had. It’s confusing at best and humiliating at worst. Throwing his words back at him, I huff, “Now Kayce Dutton, you know this conversation is entirely improper, so I suggest you drop it. And also,” I whirl around on the step I’ve just taken. Thank God we’ve reached the foreman’s house because I don’t know how much longer I can participate in this back and forth before I’m forced to will myself out of existence. “Who says I’d even want to have a baby with you? Good authority or not. I know ya’ll’ve gotten new ranch hands since I’ve last been here, all of whom I haven’t gotten to size up yet. You never know, maybe one of them is babydaddy material.” I poke him firmly in the chest. “Don’t assume I haven’t got options.” Before Kayce can respond I storm up the remaining steps and into the house, kicking my boots off perhaps a bit too aggressively before striding into the kitchen. What I plan to do in the kitchen, I don’t know, but I still don’t know which room I’m staying in and the living room feels too cozy to stew in, so the kitchen it is.

Kayce saddles in much more calmly, but his fierce expression gives his true feelings away. “Are you serious?” He grunts, and if I wasn’t so embarrassed, mad, confused, hurt - for some reason that alludes me, I might have found the rocky timbre of his voice sexy. 

“Serious about what?” I avoid his gaze petulantly, pouring myself a glass of water for a lack of anything better to do.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” He groans, tipping his head back and rubbing at his eyes. “Are you really picking a fight over whether or not we should get imaginary married, have imaginary sex, and have an imaginary baby? You do hear how crazy that sounds?”

“So now I’m crazy?” My voice is cool, and serious, even though at this point I realize I’ve lost the argument. Even though I’ve realized there never should’ve been an argument in the first place.

Any fight Kayce had left in him drains away. I see the moment that it leaves his body, his eyes softening and his shoulders relaxing. “Caroline, honey, what’d I do?”

Almost as if there’s an invisible string connecting us, my body relaxes too. I blow out a breath, dump my water down the drain, and come to stand in front of him. No island between us. “You didn’t really do anything, just poked at a sore spot, that’s all.”

Sensing that this may be a conversation best saved for later, Kayce graciously changes the subject. Scratching at the back of his neck with one hand and gesturing towards the bathroom with the other he murmurs, “Well uh, if you still wanna have that spa night we should probably get going, we’ve got a early morning tomorrow and if I’m gonna let you take my spa virginity we’ve gotta do this thing right.” That earns him a hard exhale, the ghost of what could’ve been a laugh. But he must know not to expect much else, that I’m still nursing my bruised ego, because he carries on. “So why don’t I go get that bubble bath started and you can sort through your uh lotions and potions, decide on how best to pretty me up. And then maybe we could talk, about anything you want.” He begins to walk backwards, making his way towards the bathroom. It’s odd to hear the soft pad of his socked feet on the hardwood and not the click of his boots, but also kind of nice, endearing.

“Okay,” I breath, “Yeah, that’d be - that’d be nice.” I move to walk past him, into the hall where I’d left my bags. “I think you’ve got a bit of a sunburn so I’ll see if I’ve got an aloe mask for you. If you plan on putting yourself back on the market you’d better start taking care of your looks.”

I’m very purposefully facing away from him, so I don’t see the melancholy on his face so much as I hear it in his voice. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s likely to happen. My days of chasing tail are definitely over.” I don’t reply, not too keen on opening that can of worms further, and so an uncomfortable silence settles over us. It’s only broken when Kayce sighs, “Well, I’ll uh, I’ll be in the bathroom whenever you’re ready.”

Still looking down, I pause the mindless shuffling I’d been doing through my bags, “Alright, just give me a few minutes.” Having found the masks I was looking for well before now, I finally rise from out of my crouch, left knee popping in protest. “Like you said, you deserve a proper first spa night,” I turn my body to reveal my profile, pretending to check the label of the plastic tub in my hands, “I’ve gotta make sure I pull out all the stops. You know I don’t half ass anything.” Feeling generous, I finally offer him a small smile, turning to fully face him.

The relief in his eyes catches me off guard. “Don’t I know it.”

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I don’t know what I expected when Kayce said he’d go run a bubble bath. Too absorbed in my own thoughts, I didn’t consider that such an activity is typically done alone, certainly not with a friend, and even more certainly not with a totally platonic, albeit sexy, boy bestfriend. When I finally make my way into the bathroom however, I’m greeted by the sight of Kayce settled into the comically large clawfoot tub, chin tucked to his chest so that bubbles cling to his beard, eyes unfocused and contemplative. “Didn’t realize I invited Santa Claus.” I joke, at a loss for anything else to say. Too scared to say the wrong thing or ask the wrong question.

At the sound of my voice his head jerks up, the sudden movement sloshing water just shy of the lip of the tub. “Santa Claus?” He furrows his eyebrows. He really does look like a puppy.

“You’ve got bubbles,” I gesture to my chin, miming a full beard.

He chuckles, “Oh, yeah, I guess I just got bored and,” he shrugs, “I’ve gotten used to playing with Tate in the bath. You’re lucky I didn’t break out the bubble mohawk.”

“The bubble mohawk?” I giggle, “I don’t know, I think I’d like to see that actually. Just make sure I’ve got a camera on me when you do break it out, yeah?” Lining my “lotions and potions” up on the counter, I look away, still trying to figure out what exactly is going on here, or what Kayce expects me to do, to say.

He must sense my hesitancy because he volunteers, “I hope I got the water hot enough. I know how you women like to scorch your skin off, but I’m afraid I’m just a bit too delicate.” He’s pushed himself into a full sitting position now. The water pools just under his chest and it takes everything in me to meet his eyes.

“So we are taking a bath together then?” I huff. “Because that’s not weird at all.” Still, I move to pull my blouse up and over my head, clipping my hair up so that it no longer hangs down my back. “And if you’re not actively in pain, then no, you don’t have the water hot enough. But that’s alright, I’ll manage.”

Ignoring my comment about the water, his eyebrows furrow once again in confusion. “Why’s it weird? You’re the one that suggested it.”

“No. I didn’t.” I shoot some side eye at him, because who in their right mind would suggest such a thing. Hopping around to remove my socks before balling them up and tossing them into the hall so that they don’t get wet, I continue, “And it’s weird because usually when grown adults take a bath together it’s only because something else is gonna follow.”

Rolling his eyes, he insists, “Yes. You did. You said you normally take a bubble bath for spa nights, so here we are, taking a bubble bath. And it’s not weird. I’m wearing my underwear, and I assumed you’d wear yours too. It’s no different than going swimming together.” He sounds way too exasperated for a conversation that is this stupid.

Remember how I said Kayce and I have never had trouble reading each other? Yeah I take that back. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I sigh, “That was not a suggestion. That was a statement. But thank you for the clarification. Now before I literally die of embarrassment, would you like the lavender hair mask,” I forcefully lift one colorful jar into the air, and then another, “or the apple?”

Looking as fed up as I feel, Kayce responds gruffly, “The lavender.”

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Tag List: @cheneyq @targaryenpower @starset21 @darlingmunson30 @ilovemrytleturtle @screechingtriumphtiger @chlo-feigh @twoheartedfool @softi92 @hannahufflepuff @its-moonblr

[kurtweller]

I didn’t mean to wake you, honey. I was trying to be quiet, sorry. You didn’t wake me. Memories woke me. Well, I hope they were good ones. Good ones don’t wake people up, I think they do the opposite.

[basiccortez]

The Man in the Red Suit

pairing: Rip Wheeler x female!Dutton warnings: minor Yellowstone spoilers ahead (Lee's death, season five things), mentions of grief and death, Rip being a grinch Rip Wheeler Masterlist | Yellowstone Masterlist Yellowstone Taglist Form

Note: Merry Christmas to all! :)

“Why do I have to dress up?” Rip asked for probably the thousandth time since you pulled out the red santa suit, beard and hat. 

“Because it’s Evelyn’s first Christmas and I want her to take a picture with Santa Clause,” You said, curling your hair in the mirror. It was Christmas Eve and your sister had invited the whole family to the house for dinner, drinks and gifts. It was yours and Rip's first Christmas as parents and you wanted it to be perfect. Evelyn was only seven months old so she wouldn’t be able to know if anything went wrong or not, but you would know. 

“And your dad or Kayce can’t but on the ridiculous-” 

“No! It has to be you!” You sighed, putting down the hot iron, “Evelyn won’t sit on my dads or Kayce’s lap. You saw how she acted when we took her to see Santa at the coffee shop.” 

“Well he was a bit-” Rip shut up when you gave him a glare through the reflection of the mirror. He knew better than to argue with a Dutton woman, it was one sure way to get a fist to the face. Rip opened his mouth to say something just as Evelyn let out a cry, “We’ll discuss later.” 

You smiled to yourself as you finished getting ready for the Christmas party. When you walked downstairs your heart warmed in your chest seeing Rip holding Evelyn and looking at the ornaments on the tree. She had his big brown eyes and dark curls, you were amazed how much hair she had at such a young age. She was really her father’s twin, there was no mistaking who she belonged to. 

It was also amazing to see how quickly Rip took on the role of being a father. He had his reservations about it, he was young when his mother died and his father was a monster. It kept him up at night thinking about the type of parent he would be. Would he be mean like his old man? Would his child grow up to hate him? To be afraid of him? For those nine months you were carrying Evelyn, Rip read every single parenting book he could get his hands on. He asked Kayce and John for advice. None of it really made sense to him, but then he saw his babygirl for the first time, and it did. Rip was an amazing dad. 

“Momma is staring at us again,” Rip whispered to Evelyn and kissed her cheek. She giggled at the feeling of his beard on her soft little cheek, “You ready? It’s cold out, and I don’t want her to sweat in the car seat and then go outside. That’s how kids get sick.”

“I am ready,” You nodded, “I just gotta get the baby bag, the gift for Dad and Beth, and the cookies for Tate.” 

“All of that is in the car and it’s running,” Rip said. 

“What would I do without you?” You asked with a smile on your face. You leaned up on your tiptoes and kissed his lips, “Can you put her in the car seat? I’ll grab the Santa suit.” 

Rip rolled his eyes as you skipped back down the hall towards the bedroom, “Your mom is crazy,” He whispered to Evelyn and the little girl turned to face her father, showing him a gummy smile. Rip smiled at his daughter, kissing her cheek again and then going to put her in her car seat. 

The Dutton house was decorated from floor to ceiling for Christmas, which was probably Beth’s doing. She may lie to your face and say she hates kids, but she would do anything to make her niece and nephew smile. Christmas also made her happy, despite what she says, it was the one time of year where all the Dutton siblings seemed to put their bullshit aside for a couple hours. Rip parked as close to the door as he could get, he didn’t want to carry Evelyn that far in the cold weather. 

“You can put the Santa suit on after dinner,” You said as you  walked up the path towards the front door, “While we’re cleaning up and setting up gifts, it will be perfect.” You opened the front door, and walked into the warm smelling house. 

“Yeah,” Rip said as he walked in behind you. 

“Aunt Y/N, you’re here!” Tate yelled running up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“Hey bud,” You kissed the top of his head, “Have you grown again?” 

“Probably,” Kayce said, and greeted you with a quick kiss on your head, “Wakes up five inches taller than the night before. Where’s the little one?” 

“Rip’s got her,” You said and nodded your head over to the living room where Rip was taking Evelyn out of her car seat, Monica waiting for her chance at baby snuggles, “How is she?” 

“Better,” Kayce sighed, “I think having Evelyn on Wednesdays helps. She might have gone a tad overboard with the gifts for her, but it’s her first Christmas.” 

“If you think Monica has spoiled her, wait until you see what Beth has put under the tree,” Your dad said, also giving you a kiss on the head in greeting, “Gator is ready to serve dinner.” 

“Sounds good, daddy,” You said and then walked over to your husband, who was watching Monica hold his daughter. Monica was slowly looking better since the loss of her son John. It was actually her that asked if she could babysit Evelyn for you while you were spending time going back to work for your dad’s new role as governor. It was nice to see her smile again. 

“Dad wants us at the table,” You said to them. 

“Thanks Y/N,” Monica said, and handed you your daughter, “She looks like she’s feeling better.” 

“She is. Thank you very much for those tips,” You smiled at the woman before she walked off to go find her own family. 

Gator probably spent the whole day working on the Christmas dinner for the Duttons. The table was stocked full of ham, mashed potatoes, stuffing, all the fixings. John sat at the head of the table like he usually did, you and Beth on either side of him. Rip sat next to you, and Tate on the other side of him. Kayce sat on the other end, with Monica on his left. There usually was one more person at the table, but Jamie had turned down Beth’s (not so nice) invite. John had dug around in the basement for the high chair that they’ve had since you were a baby to put Evelyn in. She sat between you and John. 

“So, Tate,” Beth said, taking a sip of her wine and looking up at you with a glint in her eye. She knew of your plan to get Rip into the Santa costume and hopefully telling Tate outloud will help seal the deal, “I hear Santa is coming by.” 

“He’s not real,” Tate answered and Rip looked at you with a shit eating grin, “I’m not five anymore.” 

“See, he’s not five, and Evelyn is too-” 

“You are putting on the damn Santa outfit,” You harshly whispered to him, “If I have to stuff you in it myself, you’re putting it on.” 

“I’d like to see you try,” Rip challenged and you glared at him. Kayce watched as the small stare down between you and Rip was broken up by Evelyn throwing a piece of bread on the floor. He could see that the whole Santa thing was somewhat bothering you, he knew you well enough to know how much Christmas means to you. You only got to spend one Christmas with your mother before her death, and you cherished the family moments like this. 

“Act surprised when he gets here,” Kayce whispered to his son, “For Evelyn.” 

“Why?” Tate asked, “She’s just a baby.” 

“Because it means alot to Aunt Y/N,” Kayce said and then cleared his throat, “She only had one Christmas with our mom, and it meant a lot to her. The only pictures she really has are of her, Santa and our mom.” 

Tate looked down at his food, and then up at his dad. In his short life, he had gone through a lot, and had witnessed loss at first hand. He looked over at his aunt who excused herself from the table to take care of his younger cousin. He thought to himself that there would’ve been two babies at Christmas, but instead, there’s just one. 

Tate nodded, “Okay. I will, I promise.” Kayce smiled at his son and patted his shoulder. 

When everyone's bellies were full, the family retired to the living room, where they started opening gifts from the large pile underneath the Christmas tree. You sat on the floor with Evelyn on your lap, helping her tear into the packages that Tate was handing her. She was having more fun sticking the wrapping paper in her mouth than trying to open the gifts. Both Beth and Monica had their phones out making sure to take pictures to capture the moments. The men all sat back with drinks in their hands, talking about cattle and giving the occasional “oh that’s cool” when it was needed. 

“Tate, why don’t you help Evelyn open the gifts from us,” Monica and moved down on the floor next to the kids. 

“I noticed you don’t have the Santa costume on,” You whispered to Rip. 

“There’s no need to put the ridiculous suit on,” Rip said, sipping his whisky, “She’s not going to remember it.” You clenched your jaw as you looked at the ground, “She’s a baby. It can wait until-” 

“It can’t wait!” You yelled and the eyes of your family members looked at you. You sucked in a breath to compose yourself and stood up from the floor, “I’m sorry. It’s just. . . its tradition.” 

“Y/N,” Rip called out to you, trying to grab your hand as you walked away from the living room. He sighed and ran a hand over his beard. 

“She believed in Santa until she was about fourteen,” John said, “Might’ve been partially my fault. I paid Paul Adler to dress up as Santa and come to the house. I guess it was my way of holding on to the things my Evelyn used to do.” John looked at the last family portrait that was sitting on the mantel above the fireplace. It was taken on Christmas eve of 1996. You were in your mothers arm with Lee looking over her shoulder at you. You were the closest with Lee growing up, and his death affected you much harder than anyone else. 

“I never realized how much it meant,” Rip answered, “I just thought it was something silly that she wanted to do for the kids.” 

“Everything that girl does has meaning to it. She just doesn’t do things ‘just because’. You’ll learn that soon enough.” 

Rip nodded and then stood up from the couch, going down the hall after you. Monica smiled at her father-in-law. They hadn’t ever had a close relationship, John saw Monica as the woman who was going to take his son away from him, but they had bonded over the horrible shared grief between them. John looked at Monica, and the woman handed her his granddaughter. 

“C’mere, Evie,” John said, lifting the baby from Monica’s arms, “How about you open this?” He grabbed the small box from the side table and helped the little one open it. It was her very first pair of cowboy boots, “Every girl needs a pair of boots.” He kissed her forehead and helped her put them on her feet. 

You were laying on your childhood bed, staring up at the ceiling where there were once glow in the dark stars that Lee helped you put up. Your father was livid and worried that they would pull the paint off the ceiling, but Lee assured him that it wouldn’t. The next person in this house who loved the Christmas traditions besides you was Lee. He would stay up late with you to wrap presents as you would write in fancy handwriting ‘To who, from Santa.” When you were younger, he would be the one to eat the cookies, and leave “snowy” (which was actually flour) footprints by the fireplace as if good Ol’ Saint Nick had actually come down the chimney to leave gifts. One time, he even brought a horse up from the barn to leave “reindeer” prints in the fresh snow (however, you knew a horse track when you saw one). 

You thought that overtime, the grief of losing your mother and brother would slowly start to subside, but it seemed as if this Christmas, it had come back in full blast. Maybe it was because you were a mother now, and you knew how fragile life could be and change with a snap of a finger.

“Baby?” You heard Rip’s voice before you saw him. You just sighed, and listened as his heavy boots walked over to you, “I’m sorry about the Santa stuff.” 

“My dad tell you I believed in Santa until I was thirteen.” 

“He said fourteen.” 

“He’s a fucking liar. Jamie told me on my thirteenth birthday that I can’t believe Santa was real anymore,” You said and sat up from your bed, “I should be apologizing to you.” 

“For what?” Rip asked, and sat next to you on the bed. 

“I know the holidays aren’t your thing,” You said and grabbed his hand. Your nervous habit was playing with his hands, “And I shouldn’t have pushed you so much into doing it.” 

Rip smiled sadly at you, and grabbed your hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing the back of it, “The holidays are my thing because they are your thing. They make you happy, and anything that makes you happy makes me happy. Besides, Evelyn seems to love it.” 

You giggled and shook your head, moving closer to your husband. He wrapped his strong arms around you, “You’re right, Evelyn won’t remember this. She’s spending more time shoving wrapping paper in her mouth than knowing what's going on.” 

“But we will remember,” Rip said and kissed your cheek, “We will remember Evelyn’s first Christmas and that’s what matters.” 

“Thank you,” You said, looking up at him. 

“For what, baby? I nearly ruined this shit.” 

“For giving me the best Christmas present ever,” You smiled up at him. He caressed your face and then placed a kiss on your lips. You hummed into the kiss, and ran your fingers through his brown curls. He moved you in his lap, so you were straddling him, and he laid back against the bed. His hands roamed your body, going down to your hips. Your tongues moved against one another, you being able to taste the whiskey on his tongue. 

A knock on the door startled you both as you lifted your head up to see Beth standing in the doorway, “Oh don’t stop on my account,” She had a smirk on her face and you rolled your eyes, “But there’s someone here to see you.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows and climbed off of Rip and your bed. You walked down towards the living room and stopped in your tracks seeing, 

“Santa?” 

“Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!” Santa said, standing in the middle of your living room. You looked at your sister and Rip. 

“I made a call,” Beth smiled, and you threw your arms around her, hugging her tightly, “Oh-” 

“Thank you, Bethy,” You said and then went towards your child who was back in Monica’s arms. Rip looked a bit confused as he watched you place Evelyn in Santa’s arms. He looked around the living room spotting Kayce, John, and Gator all standing around. 

“Who did-” Rip asked Beth but then he heard Santa speak again, “Lloyd?” 

Beth shrugged, “He owed me a favor.” 

Rip shook his head, and then walked towards his family. Beth let out a breath in relief as she watched her family gather around to talk to “Santa”. Evelyn surprisingly didn’t cry when she was set on Santa’s lap, probably because she was too distracted by all the movement around her. 

“Get together you three,” Monica said, grabbing your phone from you, “I’ll take a picture.” 

“Rip, sit on the other side of Santa’s lap,” You said and he gave you a deadpanned look, “It’s for the memories, sweetheart.” 

“Only for you, honey,” Rip gave you a fake smile as he carefully sat on Lloyd’s other knee. 

“Don’t break me bossman,” Lloyd said and Rip also gave him a glare, “It’s for the kid, don’t be a grinch! Smile!” 

“Call me a grinch again and I’ll have you scrapping shit-” 

“Okay, smile!” Monica said, “1. . . 2. . . 3!” 

You, Rip and “Santa” smiled at the camera as Evelyn was still looking up amazed at Santa. You took her from Santa’s lap and looked at the pictures Monica took. 

“They’re perfect!” You cheered, “Thank you so much, Santa.” 

“No problem! Ho, ho, ho!” Santa said and Beth led him out the front door. 

Rip put his arm around your shoulders, “You know what they say about Mistletoe.” 

You looked up above your head to see the green twig hanging above you. You smiled and grabbed Rip’s face, bringing him down to you for a kiss, “Merry Christmas, Mr. Wheeler.” 

“Merry Christmas to you, Mrs. Wheeler.

[bullet-prooflove]

Thrill of the Chase: Rip Wheeler x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging @kmc1989

Rip knows a horse thief when he sees one, especially when she’s riding John Dutton’s favourite mare, Starbuck. When he sees you up on the pasture astride the horse, he can’t believe the fucking audacity of it.

Most wranglers will wait until after dark, try and shuffle the horse into a truck but you, your brazen. It’s like you just climbed up on the damn thing and took it for a ride.

Rip won’t stand for it.

He’s after you in an instant, his heels digging into Marlowe’s sides as he spurs on the stallion. You see him coming, its impossible not to when you’re on top of that hill. You turn tail, run but Rip, he’s always been about the chase, he’ll dog you until the ends of the earth if you make him.

It takes him a couple of minutes to realise you’re fucking with him, when he starts to catch up you suddenly pull ahead, when he falls back too far you slow it down. It’s a game to you and it riles Rip, sends a flush of rage and adrenaline through his body.

He’s going to catch you, there’s no doubt in his mind because what you don’t know is that that horse has a stiff leg, it doesn’t go the distance. That’s why Starbuck was in that stall all alone, waiting for the vet’s assessment.

When he cuts you off, it’s by the stream that winds through the furthest meadow. His stallion darts in front of yours and Starbuck rears almost throwing you. It’s by the grace of God you remain in the saddle. You’re off the horse in an instant and so is he.

He doesn’t realise how pretty you are until you’re in his face, cussing him out, shoving him. You have quite the mouth on you too, he’s surprised God doesn’t strike you down where you stand.

He grabs you under the arms, drawing you close against his body to stop you from hurting him and that’s when it happens, that’s when he feels that spark, and that spark it starts a fire. He knows you feel it too because suddenly your fingers are gripping his shirt and instead of hitting him, you’re kissing him.

It turns into a wildfire, raw, passionate and all consuming. He doesn’t know how he ends up pants down in the grass, fucking you but being inside you, it’s like nothing else he’s ever experienced.

It’s when he tugs your braid loose that he realises just how much you like your hair being pulled, so he yanks it a little harder and you make the sweetest fucking noise as you come on his cock. It doesn’t take him long after that, a few more thrusts and he’s coming with you, his mouth covering yours, drinking down your pleasure.

He thinks he dozes off in the aftermath, the warmth of your body pressed against his in the midst of spring. He’s drowsy, sated, relaxed, the sun high in the sky above him, the scent of the earth surrounding him.

The next thing he knows he’s waking up to the sound of galloping hooves. When he raises his head, he sees you riding away on his stallion Marlowe, leaving him with a lame horse and his dick in the wind.

He slams his head back into the ground and stares up at the cloudless sky.

His curse has always been to love wild women.

He trudges back to the stables with Starbuck in tow, his jeans grass stained and fury he hasn’t felt in a long time. The others must see the darkness in his expression because they don’t question the fact it looks like he’s taken a tumble. When he puts Starbuck back in her stall, he’s surprised to find Marlowe back in his, chomping on a bundle of fresh hay.

“Hi boy,” He says softly, his palm running over the stallion’s nose. “I didn’t think I was going to see you again.”

That’s the part that hurt, the idea he wouldn’t get to see Marlowe again. The two of them have been partners in crime ever since he started at Yellowstone.

When he steps inside the main house to tell John there’s a thief in their midst he’s surprised to find you sitting pretty on the couch, sipping from a mug of tea. You’ve re-braided your hair and when you look at him, it’s as if you haven’t just fucked the shit out of each other up on the pasture.

“Rip.” John greets him as he turns in his seat. “Imogen was just telling me about Starbuck.”

“The old girl just needed a little run, she’d been cooped up in the stable too long, that’s what was causing her stiffness.” You say as you set the cup down on the coffee table in front of you. You raise to your feet, holding out your hand to take his. “I’m the new vet, my friends call me Jen.”

Love Rip? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[western-bluebird]

𝕊𝕠, 𝕚𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕙𝕪 𝕀'𝕞 𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕟

𝕒 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕥𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕀 𝕦𝕤𝕦𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕕𝕠

𝕚𝕥'𝕤 '𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕀 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦

[messrsbyler]

byler headcanon where…

mike, who loves writing as we all know, also loves to read (duh) and one of his favorite books is the hobbit and, well, he kind of loses it when will confesses to him he hasn’t read it yet. so next day at school mike shoves his copy into will’s hands and tells him to read it so they can talk about it soon. and will reads it… but he’s not as fast as mike and he kind of dozes off the pages a lot when a scene gets really stuck in his head. next thing he knows he’s doodling in the margins of the book whatever just happened in the previous chapter with a pen nonetheless.

ofc will panics bc he knows mike loves to have his books in pristine condition and will didn’t mean to basically deface mike favorite book? so as soon as he’s back home he rushes to his room to check his savings and see if he has enough money to get mike a new copy. he doesn’t. maybe jonathan could help him out, or his mom, but it feels wrong to make them responsible for will’s mistake. besides, that would be lying to mike, and that’s something will won’t do.

next day mike is waiting for him at the school’s entrance with a bounce in his step and vibrant eyes. he wastes no time to ask “so? did you read it? did you like it? what was your favorite part?”.

will bites his lip and mike’s eyes drop to the book he’s holding in his hands. “uhm, mike. i-"

“yeah?”

“i sort of got distracted… while i was reading and i… uh-"

“hey” mike smiles at him and bumps their shoulders together. “it’s not big deal if you didn’t finish it yet. it’s a long book, after all. sorry, i didn’t want to pressure you.”

“you didn’t!” will rushes to say and mike’s brows spring up in surprise with a curious glance. “i mean, i haven’t finished it. but that’s not what i wanted… to say.”

“oh.” mike frowns. “so… you haven’t liked it so far? you don’t have to keep reading if-"

“i am liking it! a lot. but i also… i just… uhm, here. it’s better if you look by yourself.” will hands mike the copy did the book and glues his eyes to his shoes. his neck and cheeks prickle with heat at the same time something cold pools in his stomach. “sorry.”

“why are you-"

“just open it, mike.”

mike keeps quiet for a second and will can feel his eyes roaming through will’s body. and will knows mike is probably biting his tongue not to ask if he’s okay, if something happened, if it has to do with the upside down. he doesn’t ask, though, and will breathes a little better like that.

“okay, then?” and mike opens the book. and there, on the very first page at the title there’s nothing. mike keeps thumbing through the pages, probably confused. and then, “oh.”

yup, there it is. between the ending of a chapter and the beginning of another, will’s first doodle in the margins of the page. an illustration of what is happening in the pages with some of the blue ink smeared where will’s hand hovered too close to the paper and the smell of his ballpoint impressed on the page.

will looks up with his bottom lip still stuck between his teeth. mike’s eyes are pinned to the page, mouth barely parted and a frown barely hiding under his bangs.

“i’m so sorry, mike. i know you like to have your books as they come from the bookstore.” that is true. mike is the type of guy that rejects things like dog ears for marking a page or a broken spine. let alone a drawing in fucking blue ink in the middle of the book. “i- i kinda dozed off while reading? and i started doodling without noticing and then i saw what i did and it’s ink so i can’t erase it and- i thought on getting you a new copy. maybe next month? i probably can save enough by then-“

mike’s steady hand on his shoulder shuts will right up. he freezes under mike’s touch until his body recognises mike’s shape, the curve of his palm and the length of his fingers right where will’s neck connects with his shoulder. mike’s hand has been a constant weight there throughout their friendship. an anchor and a comfort, and so after the initial shock he gets whenever someone touches him (a little thing the upside down left him), will melted under the touch. his muscles go slack and he breathes out.

“will, i’m not mad.”

will blinks. he didn’t think mike would get mad. it’s hard to make mike mad, after all. well, no. that’s not true. it’s extremely easy to get mike worked up, but not for will. it’s as if mike has a few extra doses of patience reserved only for him. so, yeah. will didn’t expect mike to be mad, but he also didn’t expect to see mike smiling at him in that soft way of his, with a faint blush creeping up his neck and cheeks.

“you… are not?”

“of course not! are you kidding? will, this is so cool!” mike looks down at the drawing and his hand leaves will’s shoulder and a cold spot behind. mike’s fingers trace will’s defined lines in blue ink and it looks so… intimate. hell, is the sun suddenly hitting will with all its might? because he’s feeling a bit too squirmy and tickly on the back. and also a bit hot on the face. maybe he’s coming down with a fever. or maybe mike wheeler is being a menace to his health as always. “this drawing… it’s exactly what i see when i read the book.”

“really?” oh, great. just fantastic. more blushing.

“yeah. did you draw more?” mike thumbs through the pages and finds other two doodles, and he looks equally fascinated with both. “i… i love them, will.”

will could basically be classified as a new type of tomato right about now with how hot his cheeks burn. “you do?”

mike snorts and nods, looking up at will. “of course! why wouldn’t i? you know i love all of your art.”

deep breaths, byers. it’s not a good idea to hyperventilate right in front of your best friend you are in love with just because he loves your art. will clenches his hands and hides them in his pockets.

“uh, well. i just- i know you like to keep your books like brand new so- and that’s your favorite book too.”

“it for sure is my favorite one now.”

“huh?”

mike tilts his head and his eyes narrow to block the sunlight coming from will’s back. “well, because now you are in it, of course.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

“that’s- cool.”

“yeah. cool.” mike smiles and will smiles back, feeling like he’s standing on air, as light as the clouds and about to float away at any second. but, well, even if he did, will knows would be there to keep him grounded and next to him. the thought is a bit dizzying and will pushes it away. “so… i’m guessing this is why you didn’t finish it? spent all the time doodling the scenes?” mike lifts the book and wiggles it in front of will.

will sighs. “yeah. maybe it was that.”

mike considers this for a moment and… okay, will isn’t sure what mike is even considering. next thing mike is snapping his fingers and giving the book back to will.

“tell you what. why don’t we head to mine after school?”

will tilts his head. “to read?”

“just trust me.”

the day comes and goes and before will knows it the last bell is ringing and he’s pushing his bike out of school and down the street to mike’s house with mike right beside him. will notices not lucas nor dustin follow them beyond their own houses. will also notices mike stops at lucas house for a few minutes before coming back next to will so they bike to his home. oh, okay. so this is a mike and will thing, and not a party thing. cool. that’s cool.

will isn’t sure what mike has in mind as they climb down to his basement. they slump down in the couch and mike opens his backpack right away.

“get the book,” he tells will and will does.

when he sits back up and look at mike, will is surprised to find another copy of the hobbit on mike’s lap. that one looks more worn down, with a broken spine and yellow-ish pages. definitely not mike’s.

will tenses and then melts when he feels mike’s thumb running up between his brows.

“stop with the growing,” mike laughs. “you are going to start to look to much like me.”

will rolls his eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “and what a tragedy would that be.” mike snorts and mike points at the book on mike’s lap. “where did that one come from?”

“i borrowed it from lucas.”

“oh. uhm, why?”

“so we can read! well,” mike gestures with his hands on the air like he does a lot when trying to get his point across. it’s a cute gesture will always notices. “so i can read while you draw.”

“huh?”

mike looks down at the book and there, again, there’s a faint shade of pink crawling up his neck and cheeks. mike shrugs and takes a breath in, looking back at will.

“i just thought i could, you know, read the book to you. out loud. i love the hobbit after all and a reread was long overdue. besides, like that you can keep drawing on my copy while i read to you.”

will’s eyes go a bit wide and he blinks in surprise. will knows mike as well as the palm of his hand, but there are moments when his best friend still manages to throw him out of balance in surprise.

“you want me to… keep drawing on your book?”

mike shrugs. it’s shy and contained, as if he was trying to make the gesture as small as possible. “if that’s okay with you.”

“is that okay with you?”

mike nods. “hell, yeah. like that, next time i read my copy i can see your drawings. i just… i don’t know… i think that would be pretty… cool.”

“cool?”

“yeah.”

will stares into mike’s eyes and goddamnit his heart better not throw him under the bus by jumping out of his mouth directly into mike’s lap. “okay. yeah, let’s do it.”

they find a comfortable position on the couch that ends up both of them laying on it in opposite directions, each of them resting their head on a couch arm and getting a pretty good view of the other. it’s a bit of a tight fit, especially since they aren’t little kids anymore and the couch didn’t care to grow along with them during all these years. but will is comfortable right where he is, with his hip pressed against mike’s hip, his legs being mike’s arm support, and just having mike this close at all.

it’s also not the most comfortable position to draw and will’s hand is about to cramp like hell, but he’ll choose to be haunted by another demogorgon before suggesting to move even an inch from where they are.

so, with his blue ballpoint in hand and both books opened at page 64, mike starts reading and will sinks into the melody of his voice, butterflies flapping against the edges of his stomach when mike makes voices for each character and when he sings under his breath the songs in a made up melody. mike’s voice wraps around will and guides his strokes on each page. will absorbed every word, every sentence, each one being carved in his brain with mike’s voice. his heart is pounding behind his ribs, fast but gentle at the same time, and soon he is dragged into a world of fantasy where the only ones from hawkins who remain to exist are him and mike.

they keep going like that for about a hundred and something pages and before they notice it a couple of hours have gone by.

“stay for dinner? we can keep reading after,” mike says as he stretches his arms up. his feet push against will’s shoulder.

“doesn’t your throat hurt reading for that long?” will asks, noticing mike’s voice as turned a bit raspier in the last hour. not something he hates, by any means. but, yeah. will notices.

“nah, i’m good. so, do you wanna?”

will smiles and nods. “yeah, sure.”

they don’t finish the book that night, but will doodles on many pages and by the time he gets home, he can still hear mike’s voice bouncing inside his ears, comforting and soft and just so… mike’s.

will slumps on bed face first and smiles into his pillow like the idiot in love he is. his fingers ache for keep drawing, but he doesn’t want to keep reading what’s left of the book without mike. this is their thing now, something they share and will wouldn’t have it any other way.

[hederasgarden]

Not me thinking about writing a threesome with these two and a reader….